


No Easy Way

by HeartOfStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Luke Is An Adorable Bean, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poisoning, Trapped In A Closet, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-02-13 09:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfStars/pseuds/HeartOfStars
Summary: A collection of Star Wars one-shots, mostly focused on the Skywalker family.Featuring:Chapter Seven: Hondo pulls a mean trick to get Vader to reveal his true identity. (Part Four)Chapter Eight: Shortly after ESB, Luke and Leia are scouting out Umbara, and find that there are things on that planet best left alone.Chapter Nine: Luke Naberrie AU: Luke has been falsely accused of a crime, and Darth Vader himself shows up to take him into Imperial custody. (Part One)Chapter Ten: Continuation: Vader takes Luke off Naboo. (Part Two)Chapter Eleven: Missing scene from ROTJ in which Vader takes the opportunity to study his son. Slight AU.Chapter Twelve: ESB AU: Vader captures Luke. Very angsty. Also this one is a gift!Chapter Thirteen: ANOTHER POST ESB AU: Luke gets shot by stormtroopers thinking he's an impostor....and then Vader shows up.
Relationships: Firmus Piett & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Han Solo
Comments: 175
Kudos: 683





	1. In Which There Is A Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets poisoned on Brentaal; Dad Vader comes to save him. Post-ESB.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets poisoned while on Brentaal, and despite his best efforts to get away, Dad Vader comes to rescue him. Post-ESB.  
This was written for KaelinaLovesLomaris' birthday earlier this year, and I've finally gotten the courage to post it! I haven't read it in six months, so apologies for any typos/grammatical errors.

As Governor Mallis motioned the Imperial agents into the dining hall, Luke began to have a distinct feeling that this mission had been a bad idea. For starters, Brentaal was about as close to Coruscant as you could get, which meant that the planet had been crawling with Imperials the second he landed on the planet. He’d been submitted to a lengthy background check, all while glancing nervously at the WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE, IMPERIAL ENEMY NUMBER ONE posters that literally had his name all over them. The false identification that Leia had given him had helped, as had dying his hair a light shade of red; but he still thought that the Imps had been looking at him suspiciously as he walked through the doors of the Trade Hall.

Now his situation was hardly any better. He had been seated among other agents at the long table, after careful examination of his identification; and then, after all the agents had filed in, several dozen Stormtroopers had entered and stood at attention at the back of the hall. So far, he had said and done nothing that might draw attention to himself, but he still had a very, very bad feeling about the entire situation. He couldn’t feel _everything _through the Force, but there was a distinct sense of...of...something, some bad intention.

_I’m only here for information, _he told himself, trying to calm his nerves. _Locate the spy, pay him for news of Fett’s location, and go. _He had no idea why the agents were even here to begin with; and while it might be interesting to find out, that wasn’t what he was here for, only his cover. The spy they had contacted was supposed to arrive in just a few minutes anyway.

He supposed Lando could have done the mission just as well—Leia hadn’t been allowed, due to her position as leader of the Rebellion—but Luke had the obvious edge of the Force...and furthermore, even though he _knew _it wasn’t technically his fault that Han had been captured and sold off to Jabba, it had been done _because _of him; and in doing this, he would be bringing them one step closer to rescuing his friend.

“Welcome, friends of the Empire!” Governor Mallis was a small, wiry man, so his resonant voice—resonant like Vader’s, no, bad comparison, don’t think about that—came as a surprise. “We are gathered here today for a noble cause: to discuss my spies’ plans for the capture of known Rebel and terrorist Princess Leia Organa!”

A chill ran through Luke. Leia’s capture! The spy was due to arrive any minute; but there was no way he was going to let another of his friends be taken from him.

_Maybe they’ll get the plans out of the way, _Luke thought hopefully, _and I can find the spy..._

“But first...” Mallis gazed at each of the agents in turn, and Luke held his breath; but the governor stared at him for only a moment before continuing. Still undetected, then. “First, let us drink a toast!” He raised his glass. “To the glory of the Empire!”

To the glory of the Empire? _In your dreams! _Luke wanted to shout; but he’d probably get in trouble for that, he thought with a smirk. Drinking such a toast was revolting to Luke; but there was no choice. All the other agents were raising their glasses in response. If he was the only guest not to drink, that would raise suspicion immediately, and almost certainly jeopardize the mission. Reluctantly, he raised his own glass and set it to his lips.

“To the glory of the Empire!”

They drank, and Mallis motioned for the guests to sit. For a moment, Luke’s vision wavered, then readjusted. He frowned. That was odd; maybe he was just a little light-headed. He _had _been on a rescue mission just two days ago...maybe more water would help. He took another sip from his glass and settled back. But Mallis didn’t mention Leia at all; instead, he only droned on about the might and power of the Empire, how easy it would be to crush the Rebellion, and so on and so forth. It all sounded like everything Luke had heard in school on Tatooine, before Uncle Owen had withdrawn him out of worry that he’d be indoctrinated; and he found himself beginning to fall asleep...

“Now,” Mallis said at last, and Luke sat up; now the governor sounded as if he meant business. “The princess is a trained warrior; not only that, but she is surrounded almost constantly by other Rebels, pilots, and most especially that Jedi, Luke Skywalker!”

Angry murmurs ran through the Imperials, as well as the Stormtroopers behind them. Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat. So far, they still didn’t know who he was—still had no idea—

“So we must have her alone,” one of the guests said aloud.

“Exactly!” Mallis smiled. “That was what I discussed with my spies; but how, precisely, would we do it? They have thoughts of their own, and have shared them with me. Perhaps, perhaps if someone knew her? Does anyone in this room share a history with Organa?”

“I do.” A female Mirialan stood. “My name is Zaloa Ki’resh, and I would be willing to do anything the Empire requires of me.”

“Good, good! But unfortunately, my dear, you are not...Human.” Ki’resh sat down, her face flushed, and Luke felt a rush of sympathy; and then anger, toward the Empire. Many Mirialans had been Jedi once! How dare anyone assume that they were less than humans, that—

Luke’s thoughts were cut off by a sudden, stabbing pain behind his eyes. He looked up, briefly, toward the ceiling. The chandelier hanging above them must be too bright; it seemed to be sending scores of light across the room, burning into his eyes. He rubbed his forehead wearily and closed his eyes, trying to release some of his pain into the Force; it worked, but only marginally. Was he coming down with something? He sincerely hoped not. If so, it would be insanely bad timing...with a sigh, he took another sip of water, although that had hardly helped before...

“Agent?” Luke opened his eyes as Mallis addressed him, and to his dread, all the other agents, as well as the Stormtroopers, turned to look at him. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

Luke hesitated a moment. If he said “no,” there was a chance he might be dismissed, an advantage he could use to find the spy and _get out of here. _But on the other hand...if there was a chance, just a chance, that Leia would be captured, he had to save her...

Without warning, his stomach turned. Okay, that was it. He had definitely caught something.

“Not really, Governor,” he said, using all his concentration to sound calm and collected. “I think I might have some sort of illness.”

The Force roiled with dark intentions, but Luke could hardly focus on it. It would be enough of a challenge to get up and find the spy—

“And you think I am going to have you excused, do you?” With an effort, Luke opened his eyes a bit more, though the simple action made his eyes burn; and, to his horror, he realized that Mallis seemed to be...smiling. Smiling at him. Why would he smile if Luke—who he thought was a loyal agent—was clearly feeling so ill? Luke knew the answer was there somewhere—the Force was practically screaming it at him—but he couldn’t see it, could barely even think around the pain in his head and stomach and everywhere else—

And then, his eyes fell on the glass of water.

He had drunk from it three times, and each time...his pain had only increased. Could it be...?

“You poisoned me!” Luke stood abruptly, which caused his head to spin again; he seized the edge of the table for support. His head was spinning, heart pounding, he felt sicker than he’d ever felt in his life; but he knew that the drink had been odorless...colorless...set in slowly enough, its symptoms gradually growing more painful...his stomach turned again, and he had to press a hand to his mouth to keep from vomiting. “You—I thought you—“

The Stormtroopers stepped forward suddenly, seemed to waver—or maybe that was his shaky vision—and Luke slowly realized that they had their blasters trained on him. Again, he felt that there was an answer somewhere, but there seemed to be a fog preventing him from getting to it.

The lights flared brighter, stabbing into his head, and he clenched his teeth.

“You have been mistaken, _Commander Skywalker,_” Mallis said, and Luke gasped; _they knew who he was. _He looked around the room, searching for an escape; but between the Stormtroopers, the other agents—now grinning at him maliciously—and Maclain, he realized that this had been a carefully orchestrated trap.

And he had walked right into it.

“You’re—you’re not really planning to capture Leia,” Luke ground out as well as he could between the pains in his head, the nausea in his stomach, and the chills that were just beginning to set in.

“Oh, we are! Make no mistake about that. But...” Mallis stepped around the table. “But, of course, everything we discussed was...a diversion. We will bring you to the Emperor—he has greatly desired to see you, and has been twice disappointed by his supposedly great asset Lord Vader—and in doing so, we’ll kill two birds with one stone! The moment Organa hears of your capture, she will rush to save you, and then—“

A moment ago, Luke had felt ready to faint; still did, if he thought about it. But he wasn’t thinking about it; he was thinking about Leia, one of his dearest friends, who had lost so much and would _still _give so much, if only for him. Between losing her and a poison...he could take the poison.

“Never,” he whispered; and even as he said the word, his resolve grew. “Never! I’ll die first, _sleemo!_”

He hadn’t meant to say it; he hadn’t remembered slipping into Huttese. But he didn’t care. Using the Force, he called one of the Stormtroopers’ blasters to him and shot at the nearest troopers, aiming for the legs and arms; at least, he thought he did. His vision had gone red at the edges and was almost as unreliable as Threepio in an emergency. But those few shots did the job he’d wanted: they cleared him a path, and within seconds he had taken it, sprinting from the dining room as fast as his trembling legs could carry him.

“Hey!” Mallis was shouting. “After him! Stop worrying about yourselves!”

Luke ran faster, turning a corner so fast he almost smashed into the wall. Shaking his head only made things worse; he needed a quick way out of here. Teccitin took about an hour to kill, but its symptoms were extremely painful, and it didn’t take long for confusion to set in. At least, that’s what Han had told him years ago when describing all the poisons he’d survived...although, Luke conceded, he might have been exaggerating, just a little...

_Focus!_he told himself furiously. _This isn’t helping! _

“Artoo!” Luke yelled hoarsely, trying to remember which corridor led outside. “Artoo, where are you?”

For a moment, there was no answer. Then Luke remembered: he hadn’t brought Artoo. It hadn’t been allowed. Of course it hadn’t been allowed! A well-known Rebel droid would draw suspicion immediately...why hadn’t he thought of that?

What was _wrong _with him?

_You know what’s wrong, you idiot, _a traitorous voice whispered. _You’ve been _poisoned!

_Yeah, thanks, I didn’t know, _Luke told the voice sarcastically, and narrowly avoided running headlong into another wall. Abruptly, the voices behind him grew louder; the troopers were on his trail!

Shavit.

He hadn’t noticed that either.

Focus, focus, he thought desperately; but even reaching for the Force was confusing. It was like touching a myriad of emotion and color that didn’t make sense; it was like trying to speak Bocce when you only knew Basic...or something like that...

“I see him!”

A blaster bolt whizzed over his head; Luke jumped sideways to avoid it and fell into a door—_no time! _something screamed at him, maybe the Force, and he leaped back up, his legs shaking madly. Desperately, he yanked the door open, stumbled inside...and suddenly he was falling, tumbling backwards over dozens of steps—

Slowly, he drifted out of darkness and back to reality. The world was spinning unnaturally. What had happened? Was it another failed mission? Had the Rogues finally succeeded in locking him inside that supply cabinet? Had—

Oh, that’s right. He’d been poisoned.

Struck by the suddenness of the memories, Luke lurched upright; that was a mistake. The world spun _violently _this time, like he was in one of those snow globes Leia had been given by her father and someone was shaking it madly...and then he was on the floor again, and there was a puddle of...something...on the floor next to him. Disgusted, he inched away from it, but even that small action set his head spinning again.

He groaned. Surely, it had only been a few minutes—half an hour at the most—he still had that much time to—

On top of everything else, there was a sudden chill. Oh, so now the fever had decided to return. Great. If he could barely sit upright, how in the Force was he supposed to get up all the stairs and—wait a minute.

That was no ordinary cold.

_There is no escape. _

In a panic, Luke bolted upright, somehow kept from vomiting again, almost fell—but, ah! There was a banister. Desperately, he seized it, dragged himself up, and took another stumbling step. He still couldn’t touch the Force with any accuracy, but he could sense that he and the grasping cold were not in the same room; not yet. Thirty minutes. Somehow, Vader and the poison were bound up together; escape from one would mean escape from the other.

_Stay where you are!_

Luke froze, momentarily paralyzed by the rich, possessive voice—and then his determination returned. Leia. He had to help Leia, that was right. Luke took several steps forward, toward the stairs...uh-oh. This time, there was nothing to hold on to. The world tilted sharply again, and this time, there was nothing for him to hold on to. He seemed to fall in slow motion. Dimly, as he convulsed with shivers, he was aware of someone calling out for help, a confusing hum from above...and then nothing.

~

It took too long to kill the Imperial agents.

Days ago, Darth Vader would perhaps have been willing to spare them—willing, if only for the reason that they could serve him in valuable ways—until his personal spies had caught wind of the fact that they were trying to circumvent his wishes and bring his son to Palpatine. Vader had realized there was still time, time to save his son...to save him, and bring him back to the _Executor, _and resume where they had left off on Bespin. Well, perhaps not _resume_; he knew that Luke was likely still terrified of him—and why shouldn’t he be?—and Vader would prefer not to continue with any lost limbs or suicide attempts. Perhaps, if Luke was contained, and had no way to escape, then he would yield; and then, a small part of him had whispered, maybe he would even desire to remain on the _Executor..._with his father...

No. That would never happen. Luke hated him, and he had every reason to.

Besides, Vader couldn’t even begin to think of what would happen on the _Executor; _not until he had his son safe, with him. And even after killing the agents, taking a dark pleasure in watching his son’s would-be captors scream for mercy, when he sought out his son’s presence, he knew something was...wrong. Luke was not in his right frame of mind; he had been injured, and maybe for that reason, his location was difficult to pinpoint.

Finally, the last man dropped to the floor, and Vader turned his attention to his son. To his alarm, he realized that Luke’s presence had dimmed significantly, there was a confused fog around his mind; and worst of all, he was in pain. Vader could feel it clearly, across their bond; and for a moment, he wished the governor’s death had not been so quick.

_Stay where you are! _he sent to Luke. He hadn’t wanted to frighten the boy, but if he was weak and in pain, he wouldn’t be able to get far. At least, Vader hoped not...

Luke’s terror spiked swiftly and there was a brief impression of trying to get away, and then—and then—_nothing. _His presence dimmed suddenly, without warning, and Vader walked faster, terror growing in his own heart...but then he realized that Luke was merely unconscious. He still had time.

After excruciating minutes of searching, Luke’s presence grew stronger. He must be close. Vader wrenched open the door, and then he knew Luke was here; he could feel him, unconscious though he was. Vader didn’t bother to shut the door but proceeded quickly into the cellar room, down the stairs, and—

There.

It was a sight Vader had never thought he would see, except only in his nightmares: Luke, his _son, _sprawled senseless across the floor and shivering from either pain or chills or...both. He was still alive, clearly, but for how much longer?

“Luke!” Vader took the last remaining steps to his son and crouched down beside him, shaking him gently. “Luke! Do you hear me?”

For several agonizing seconds, there was no response. Then, finally, the boy stirred; arms and legs moved, weakly, and then he groaned with the movement. Vader didn’t like to cause his son so much pain, but he needed to know what was wrong. Luke’s eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes—blue, Vader knew, although the hated mask distorted their color—opened slowly, even more piercing in his fever. He groaned again, focused on Vader...

“No!” Luke jerked away, his eyes going wide with terror. “Get away from me, you...monster! Get—get...away...”

_Monster. _An accurate term. Vader had expected that, and kept a firm grip on Luke’s arm. Of course his son would be terrified of him; his father had brutalized him, manipulated him, cut off his hand...but something about Luke’s terror this time around didn’t feel quite...right. His Force presence was clouded in a way that felt unnatural. Vader studied Luke, who was still trying to shrink away from him, and felt growing concern at his son’s symptoms; he was shaking, confused...any movement cost him pain...most likely, he had a fever...

“Tell me,” Vader demanded, drawing Luke closer, “how did this happen?”

But Luke’s only response was to turn away with a whimper. “No...m-monster...”

“_Tell me!” _Vader infused his voice with a Force suggestion, but that did nothing, as he had expected. He growled in frustration, causing Luke to turn away once more. Then, realizing that he had no other option, he invaded Luke’s mind, searching as gently as he could through the whirlwind of thoughts, until...

_It’s teccitin. _

Vader withdrew immediately, angered almost beyond reason; the only thing that stopped him from returning upstairs to destroy the bodies he’d already killed even further was his son, likely minutes away from death. Mallis had poisoned _his_ _son! _That would explain the confusion, the shaking, the almost constant pain; he had an antidote—teccitin was one of the most feared poisons in the galaxy—but they would have to leave immediately.

Luke struggled against him again, bringing his other arm up to push weakly at Vader’s chest, and Vader returned his attention to his son.

“Let me go,” he protested, his voice hoarse. “Don’t—don’t kill—“

The thought of even harming Luke at all was horrifying, let alone _killing _him! Luke must be so delirious, Vader realized, that he had mixed up his father and some sort of non-sentient creature. He was still at least half conscious, so there must be at least fifteen minutes until he would die; but that would be barely enough for the journey to the _Executor. _Vader reached for his comlink.

“Piett,” he snapped as soon as the call had been accepted. “Go to the medbay, and quickly!”

His loyal admiral sounded utterly confused. “My...my lord...?”

“There is no time, do you _understand_? I have...found what I came for. Get a teccitin antidote, and have it ready!”

“Teccitin?” There was fear even in Piett’s voice. “Yes, Lord Vader. Right away. I’ll—I’ll have it when you arrive.”

“Good,” Vader said shortly, disconnecting the call. He turned back to his son, who—despite his obvious pain—was struggling more vehemently. There was only one solution. He placed a gloved hand on Luke’s forehead and looked into his son’s terror-stricken eyes. Just in case...in case he didn’t...

No. Luke would live.

“Be calm, my son,” Vader said, running his fingers once through Luke’s sweat-soaked hair, then again; and, oddly, that finally seemed to do the trick. Vader could not resist performing the action once more, and then he gathered the Force around him and said, as quietly as his vocoder would allow: **_“Sleep.” _**

Even in his current state, Luke resisted for several seconds; and then his eyes dropped closed. There was no more time. Vader put his hands under Luke’s shoulders and knees and lifted him up easily; his son was lighter than he had thought. Whether that was due to meager rations or the poison, he couldn’t tell, but there was no time to think about it. Luke squirmed in his arms, pain shooting across their bond; his condition was only growing worse.

“No!”he snarled; and, grasping his son tighter, he sped back up the stairs. Luke shifted, turning closer to Vader; and the cold knot in Vader’s stomach turned into ice. Luke was the only thing left of Padmé, the only thing left to _him. _He could not, _would not _lose his son!

~

It was dark.

That was Luke’s first thought. His brain was a little fuzzy, but he was sure that the last time he’d been awake, everything had been much too bright. This was nicer, he thought, relaxing into the pillows behind him. There was a confusing mess in the past, that he didn’t want to think about; too difficult to sort out now. Now, he was comfortable, and sleepy, and warm...well, maybe not warm. Now that he thought about it, he was a little cold. But, for some reason, the cold didn’t seem to be anywhere on the outside. Nor was it inside him. Instead, it just seemed to be..._around _him. It surrounded him—

Suddenly, he realized what that meant.

But strangely, it didn’t seem to bother him. He should have cared. He should have been terrified, or angry, or desperate, or maybe all three at once, but...he wasn’t. It was nice, actually, to have the impenetrable black wall that was Darth Vader standing beside him, watching him. Taking care of him.

“How do you feel?”

Luke couldn’t see very well in the darkness, and turning his head felt like a monumental task; so he did neither. “I...” Oof. His voice was scratchier than he remembered. “Like I could sleep for a week.”

Vader’s dark presence radiated amusement and...and...relief? That couldn’t be right...

A large hand settled on his shoulder, but Luke didn’t even have the strength to flinch. “Then sleep, my son.” That term should have been ominous, but instead it was sort of comforting. “You are safe.”

And, settled in a soft bed, with his father standing protectively behind him, Luke believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title was partly inspired by sparklight's Intrepid Hero series, and partly by a lot of pre-twentieth century novels. I'll never understand when exactly long, hilarious, overly explanatory titles were out, and "Chapter Insert Number Here" titles were in.


	2. Fifteen Minutes In A Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rogues get frustrated by Han and Leia's will-they, won't-they relationship and get them locked in a supply closet. Inspired in part by a hilarious post on Tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. I'm not great at writing romance, but this isn't exactly romance, this is just...well, you'll see.

Leia didn’t care that Luke had destroyed the Death Star, saved the entire Rebellion, was worshipped as the Hero of Yavin and, so far, happened to be the only Jedi within a million lightyears. When she got out of here, she’d kill him.

“I thought they said there’d be a wrench in here,” Han growled, for about the fifth time, from somewhere behind her—not somewhere, she knew _exactly_ where he was, she could j_ust feel_ his chest against her back—as he wrestled with something on the wall of the blasted closet. “I’ve needed to fix the engine on the _Falcon _for a week now, and I can’t find one anywhere, no matter how hard I look—“ He shifted an inch and bumped into Leia, sending her stumbling forward and into the wall.

“Stop it!” Leia rounded on him and jerked when she found him far closer than she’d thought. She swallowed. “Do you honestly think, Captain Solo, that I give a kriffing skrog what happens to your ship? The problem at hand is that we are stuck in here, for whatever idiot reason, and I have that debriefing I need to attend, and most likely the Rogues did it on purpose, for—for _whatever reason, _and I am going to _kill _them the second I get out of here!”

“You’re gonna kill Luke? Oh, sure, that’ll do your Rebellion some good.”

“You know what I mean, I—“ Leia couldn’t yell at Han, not when he had the unmitigated _audacity _to _grin _at her like that, when the look on his face made her feel a very specific way that she did not want to feel, and so she turned her back on him. “Oh, forget it. If you aren’t going to make yourself useful, shut up and let me figure out how to unlock this thing!”

Ignoring the way she seemed to feel him behind her, even though he wasn’t touching her, ignoring the fact that she _knew _he still had that stupid grin on his face, feeling her face burning, she searched around in the closet for some kind of lever, or something, to get the door open. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for that trick of Janson’s, when he’d told her there’d be some records in the closet she could use in the debriefing, had been suspicious but had thought _nothing _of finding Han there, too. Then Antilles had gotten her a chair, so she could stand up and look on the top shelf for the records, and she’d been so busy thanking him she hadn’t thought to be suspicious of him either, and then Luke—_Luke, _how _could _he—had used the Force to push them both inside…and then, the second she and Han had sat up, very disgruntled and their limbs tangled together, they had heard laughing—laughing!—from outside, and the click of a lock. Janson she could see doing something like that, Antilles she could _definitely _see…but Luke? She had never thought, not once in the two years she’d known him—although it felt far longer than that—that he would ever stoop to play a prank on her, and on Han…and that Han would fall for it!

“Hey, Your Worship, I think I found something.” Han’s muffled voice sounded from about three feet away from her.

Reluctantly, Leia turned around, and felt strangely relieved to see that Han was not looking at her, but rather at the floor of the supply closet, and leaned forward to try and see what he had found.. “What? Is it a key?”

“No, it’s—“ Han chose that _precise moment_ to stand up; which, as Leia was presently peering forward, brought them practically nose to nose. Leia’s stomach gave an uncharacteristic jolt. There was about one second before Han had straightened all the way to his full height; and that was an exceedingly crucial second, because it left Leia, for one elusive moment, staring _directly _at Han’s lips. Then he was standing, and she was looking at the top of his chest.

That was worse.

There was a very long moment, which probably lasted about five seconds but which felt like five minutes for both parties involved, in which Leia tried not to stare at Han’s chest and in which Han was likely staring down at _Leia’s _lips. Then Leia, angry with herself and even _angrier _at the _stupid _captain for being so _purposely _annoying, snapped, “Well? Don’t just stand here! _Is it a key or not?_”

“Oh.” Han sounded almost surprised, which was...unusual. “Oh, no, it’s not a key.”

Leia threw her hands in the air. “Then why the kracking hell didn’t you say that in the first place? In case you haven’t noticed, _Captain Solo, _we have been stuck in here for _thirty minutes—_“

Han grinned. “It’s a wrench.”

Leia stared at the object, which he now held in his hand, and realized it would be absolutely perfect for opening the door. She wanted to cry; but she would never do that in front of this _idiot, _so she settled for anger instead. “You couldn’t have told me that in the first place? I thought we were still stuck in here!”

He crossed his arms—incredibly muscular arms, she noticed, why had she never noticed that, _shut up, Organa—_over his chest. “Well, Your Worship, now _you’re _just standing there! Do you want it or not?”

Leia realized she was acting completely ungrateful, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Han. She stared at the wrench for several more seconds, forcing herself to look away from every other Force-damned body part of his, and then... “Oh, give me that.”

Han handed her the wrench—holding back a smile, she was sure—and she immediately turned on the door, forcing the wrench under the lock to open it. She felt Han’s hands behind her— “here, let me help”—and found that she _liked _the feel of him touching her, that she felt just a little warm—

“Let me do it by myself!” She rounded on him so fast that her elbow smacked into his face, knocking him backward and onto the floor.

Mortified, Leia stared at Han for several seconds, wondering whether to be angry or to apologize or do both at once...when Han started laughing from his position on the floor, an explosive laugh she’d only heard from him when he had introduced Luke to alcohol for the first time, several months after the Death Star, and had gotten the farmboy-turned-Jedi drunk for the first time. After that little incident, she wouldn’t have ever thought she could be more angry at anyone, but this unplanned trip to the supply closet might beat that.

“I’m—”she started, but broke off when Han laughed even harder. “Shut up, you—you half-assed--! What are you laughing at?”

“Oh—oh—nothing,” Han choked as he got himself back under control. “It’s just that Hobbie doesn’t call you ‘Powerfist’ for no reason!”

Leia glared at him. She didn’t need him referencing _that _particular memory.

Han rolled his eyes. “_Look, _Your Worship, are you gonna get the door open or not?”

“When you stop being such a scoundrel,” Leia snapped, but it was for show; she didn’t want to be in there any more than he did. The entire situation was causing her emotions to fly all over the place, and if she spent another second in here she was going to actually have to face them, either by strangling Han or by—

Oh, no. No. She was _not _going to go there.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” Han said behind her, his voice so uncharacteristically smooth. “Need any help?”

“No,” Leia snarled, jamming the wrench against the crack in the door and _shoving _with all the fury that had been building up in the last fifteen minutes—nothing. The door jolted forward, but stayed stubbornly shut. 

Han didn’t say anything, but it was as if she could _feel _him laughing behind her. That did it more than anything.

_Take this, you smartass. _

Feeling all of her anger and fury and hatred and—and—and something else for Han Kriffing Solo, Leia jammed the wrench forward—

And then the door was open, and she and Solo were falling.

That was the good part.

The bad part was that he was _behind_ her, and she was in _front_ of him, and because her instincts were sharper she tried to turn to grab the door on her way out…which meant that when they landed, she was on her back, holding the wrench, and he was half on top of her.

The moment lasted about two seconds, but felt like an eternity: Han staring down at her and Leia staring up at him, their bodies touching—

And then the sound of laughter ruined it.

Leia’s fury erupted once again, and she shoved Han off her with more strength than she’d intended; Powerfist, indeed. But somehow that insult had stopped being important at that particular moment. She jumped to her feet and spun around, facing the Rogues, who were standing almost in a perfect line, making various efforts to hide their laughter.

There was Antilles, whose face was mostly straight except for his lips, which shook forcibly as he pressed them together.

There was Janson, with a hand clapped over his mouth, shaking.

There was Senesca, proud owner of the highest kill count(with one notable exception), who was _giggling._

There was Klivian, gasping and spluttering and doing everything in his physical power to stay mostly silent.

And then there was Luke, standing proudly in the middle of them and doing nothing to hide his laughter at all.

Leia glared death at them, arms crossed over her chest in a position that would have frightened the nearest techs off to find things to fix; but it seemed to have no effect on Rogue Squadron. If anything, they laughed harder.

Han had at last dragged himself to his feet, but Leia didn’t even want to _think _about him at the moment. Instead, she kept glaring at the perpetrators, especially at Luke Skywalker, who she had _never _guessed had such a mischievous side.

At last, they got their laughter under control.

“Well?” said Luke

Leia’s eyes narrowed. “Well, _what?”_

Luke and the rest of the boys looked at each other, their eyes sparkling and bodies beginning to shake with laughter once again.

Luke turned back to Leia. “Well? Did anything happen?”

Behind her, Han choked.

Before she could even begin to think what _that _meant, Leia had to focus on the task at hand. She took several slow, menacing steps forward. “Did. _What. _Happen?”

Luke and Wedge snorted with laughter.

“I don’t want to even think about what you were trying to do,” Leia said icily, “but one thing’s for sure.” She marched forward until she was face to face with Luke, who didn’t look the least bit afraid. “That was the stupidest, most moronic thing you have _ever _done in your life, and if you weren’t the only reason we win battles anymore I’d kill you right now!”

“Oh, come on, Leia,” Luke said, raising his hands. “It was a joke!”

“Yeah, and it was _really funny,” _Leia snarled…but she could already feel her anger beginning to dissipate. She just hated it, but she could never stay angry with Luke; he had that kind of effect on her.

“Yeah, Your Worship, lighten up,” Han said from beside her.

Han, on the other hand…

“Oh, don’t even get me _started _on you,” Leia snapped. “We were stuck in that supply closet for fifteen minutes, which was fourteen and a half minutes too long!”

Han blinked, raising his hands in surrender.

Luke laughed.

Leia sighed. “Oh, all _right. _I forgive you, I guess. But _only _you.” She rounded on the other Rogues. “_You _three are on janitor duty for the next week!”

Three identical groans echoed through the room.

“Your Highness, please,” said Wedge. “Come on, it was just a—”

“Just a joke? Really? I’m the highest-ranking woman on this base, Antilles, and the Empire hasn’t shown any signs of finding our base.” Leia smiled. “You’ll be just fine.”

Luke clapped Wedge on the back. “Yeah, have fun, guys!”

Han laughed again, but this time—for damn once—it wasn’t aimed at her. “Wow, kid, you sure know how to get out of trouble with Leia. Even I’m not that good.”

Luke grinned deviously at them; Leia had a bad feeling about this.

“Well, Han, there’s a reason for that,” he said, and before either of them could say anything, he turned and walked away down the hall.

Han scowled. “I don’t wanna think about what that means.”

Neither do I, Solo. Neither do I.”

But for some stupid reason, neither Leia nor Han moved. It was as if they were actually comfortable, now, standing next to each other. Why in the galaxy…?

Well. That was for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's a thing. I really want to write more comedic post-ANH one-shots, but we'll see what happens.


	3. The First Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After deciding being a TIE pilot is not for him, Luke Skywalker applies to the Executor...and gets accepted. But he has no idea what he's getting himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to LadyVader23 for help with the idea!

_ We think you would be an ideal candidate for the job. If you are available, the interview will be held at 0800 a week from today. Do not be late. _

A week later, Luke Skywalker still couldn’t believe it. He’d applied to the position as a _ dare, _and he’d only been half sober; one of the older Academy graduates, Han Solo, had taken him out for a drink. Halfway into the night, he’d dared Luke to apply to the position of officer on a Star Destroyer, and Luke had done it. He’d applied to eight of them. 

And the _ Executor _had responded. 

“Well, what do I do?” he’d asked Han. Neither of them had stayed TIE pilots for long; Han had left, and Luke was...well. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but something had been telling him he couldn’t keep flying for the Empire. “They won’t accept me. I’m barely nineteen, and I just graduated from the Academy! I can’t just take the job.” 

Han snorted. “Of course you can. It’s what I’d do.” 

Luke rolled his eyes. “And then you’d leave two days later.” 

Han snapped and pointed. _ “Bingo.” _

So, four days later, Luke was walking into an Imperial office on Coruscant, ready to do the interview, hopefully get the job, and then take off as soon as he got bored. 

But already he felt uncertain. He was too young, too inexperienced; and as he walked through the complex, he felt eyes on him, the taller and older Imperial lieutenants sizing him up like he was a piece of meat. He _ knew _he was short, and he’d never been bothered by it, but now he was all too aware how young it made him look. Maybe if he was taller, he’d look more like a threat. 

Not to mention that he didn’t know where he was going. 

“Uh…” He stopped in front of several lieutenants and cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Do you guys happen to know where the Captain’s office is? I’m here for an interview.” 

The lieutenants stared at him for exactly one second. Then they burst out laughing. 

Luke was taken aback, and also slightly insulted. It had only been a dare, but he didn’t look _ that _young. 

“What, on the _ Executor? _” one of them said. “That’s the job, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, a little belligerently. “What makes you think I can’t do it?”

“Listen, kid, I don’t want to kill your dreams,” said the other, dropping his voice to a whisper. “But that’s _ Darth Vader’s _ship. It might be considered prestigious and exciting to work there--the pay’s great, I’ve heard--but it’s an extremely competitive environment, and if you happen to make a mistake…” He grinned. “He’ll find out. Then he’ll raise a fist and--” 

The other lieutenant made disturbing choking sounds and started scrabbling at his throat, as if he couldn’t breathe. 

Alarm shot through Luke. He knew the _ Executor _ was Darth Vader’s ship, he knew how powerful the Dark Lord was, how feared; but only to enemies of the Empire, not someone who _ worked _for him. But now…

No. They were trying to scare him, that was all. 

“He wouldn’t do that,” he snapped. “We’re all loyal to the Empire!”

The first lieutenant shook his head. “You’re too innocent for your own good, kid. Just wait--”

But then the door behind Luke opened, and a very tired-looking man emerged. 

“What’s going on here?” He looked between them. “Is one of you an applicant?”

“No--” The lieutenants started, but Luke stepped in front of them. 

“I am,” he said. “I’m Luke Skywalker. Officer position, right?”

“Yes,” said the man, his tone short and clipped. “I’m Captain Firmus Piett. Follow me.” He shot the two lieutenants a glare. “And if I catch you two listening again, you’ll both be fired on the spot.” 

  
  


The interview office wasn’t large; it only held a desk, a small bookshelf, and two chairs, one on each side of the desk. Neither of them looked very comfortable. Slowly, Luke sat down, the lieutenants’ words echoing in his mind. What was he getting himself into? He hadn’t thought that Darth Vader would be so cruel as to actually _ kill _someone he worked for. He didn’t think it was true...but what if it was? Would he get killed for so much as failing to deliver a report on time? For dropping something? For--

“Well, Luke Skywalker,” Piett said, and Luke was snapped out of his thoughts. “Let’s make this quick and easy. First, I’m just going to confirm some information. You are nineteen years old?”

“Yeah, my birthday was last week,” Luke said, remembering the night out with Han and several other graduates; Piett gave him a sharp look. Right, right, just straight answers. This captain worked in a very professional environment. “Um. Yes, sir.” 

“You grew up on Tatooine?”

“Yes, sir.” Luke resisted the urge to add _ but it was really boring. _

“You made it into the Academy at the age of eighteen?”

“Yes, sir.” He’d been two weeks shy of eighteen, actually; he’d lied, slightly, on his application. But he didn’t think that was something he should tell Piett. 

“You graduated top of your class and was assigned a TIE fighter a week after graduation?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“But then, one month later, you quit.” Piett set down his datapad. “This astounds me. Why?”

“Well, um…” How could he explain it? He’d started to get this _ awful _ feeling every time he took off into the sky; then, one night, he’d had a nightmare that everyone in his squadron had died. He had simply _ known _he had to quit, and Han had been more than supportive, but he couldn’t say any of that. “It...just...wasn’t for me.” 

“Really.” Piett doubted him--and how did he know _ that? _Better not to think about it. “You are aware that, usually, we prefer our officers to have more work experience than you have listed?” 

Luke sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“And why did you apply?”

“I…” Luke tried to think of an excuse. “Well, I need to do something with my life. I never wanted to stay on Tatooine, I wanted to _ do _ things, even though people would tell me it was worthless to try. And if I’m not going to be a TIE pilot, the _ Executor _would be the next best place to...get something done. For the Empire.” 

Boy, was that a lousy excuse. 

Piett seemed to think so, too. “I see.” 

Trying not to feel embarrassed, Luke looked down. 

_ Well, Han, I tried. _ It had been a dare, after all. He hadn’t even expected to make it _ this _far. Still, he’d have loved to see Han’s face when he told him--

“I’d like you to have this job.” 

Luke did a double take. “What? You do. Why? I don’t...uh..._ what? _”

Piett chuckled at Luke’s confusion, but it didn’t feel patronizing. “You have initiative, which is more than any of our other applicants have shown. And, I must say…” He sighed. “I’m from the Outer Rim myself. It was difficult for me to work my way up the ladder of success, as the metaphor goes, and I’d like to give you an opportunity.” 

Luke couldn’t speak. He’d just become an officer on the _ Executor, _of all places; he’d be walking right into the heart of the Empire, into a job filled with pressure, the most dangerous work environment he’d ever faced...and he couldn’t have been more excited. 

_ Take that, Han, _he thought gleefully. 

“Uh--uh, thank you, sir,” he stammered, torn between shock and joy. “I’ll do well, I promise. I won’t let you or anyone else down.” 

“Oh, I doubt that you will, young Luke.” Piett’s face became serious. “But...I do have to warn you.” 

The lieutenants’ words came flashing back. 

Luke tried not to look concerned. “Yes?”

“The commander of the _ Executor _ is Darth Vader,” Piett said, his voice level. “And it will be a great honor to work under him; it _ is _a great honor. I have never been more privileged in my life. But you also have to be careful. Lord Vader can be…” Piett cleared his throat. “He has very high standards. And it does not happen very often, I assure you, but…he has killed employees before.” 

Luke felt the blood drain from his face. 

The lieutenants had been right. 

Well, not completely right; they’d made it sound like it happened all the time, he realized. And Piett said it was only occasional. 

“What do I need to do,” he said slowly, “to make sure that doesn’t happen?”

Piett smiled. 

“Just do your job as well as you can, and be respectful,” he said, “and I’m sure it won’t.” 

Luke felt better. Hesitantly, he returned the smile. 

Piett held out his hand. “Welcome to the _ Executor, _Luke Skywalker.” 

  
  


Life on the _ Executor _was exactly as stressful as he had expected it would be, and more. But it was also the most fun Luke had had in his life. 

Each day, he got up at 0600 and reported to Admiral Ozzel, who was not the nicest superior in the world; he liked to play favorites with the officers, and Luke had gotten the distinct feeling that Ozzel did not like him. But fortunately, he didn’t have to see him for long; only for about five minutes, during the assigning of daily tasks. Usually Luke did things like filing reports and bringing them to superior officers, or getting information from the technicians, and keeping tabs on the _ Executor’s _condition, which would involve trips to Engineering. The last part was his favorite. Due to his knowledge of parts and machines, he quickly found that he excelled at that, and other officers--and even techs--began to ask him for advice. In two days, he had become the resident expert on mechanics. 

That didn't mean it was, exactly, a safe work environment. He knew other officers were jealous of him, thought he shouldn't be there, that he'd gotten in too easily; one day he woke up to find that all his belongings were gone, and had only gotten them back after promising the two officers who'd done it that he would do them favors when they wanted. But he also had friends, some of whom he confided in about what was essentially bullying; and so he wasn't alone. 

Fortunately, he had barely run into Darth Vader. He’d only seen the man--or droid, or whatever he was--once, and that had been during a quick run to the bridge. But Luke had immediately had to run off and deliver another report, so he hadn’t even stuck around long enough for Vader to get angry at him. 

“Good thing,” said Jespa Rylar one night. One of Luke’s new friends, she had only been there a month longer than him. “You weren’t thinking anything...disrespectful, were you?”

“No, of course not,” Luke said, alarmed. “Why?”

“Because he’d know,” Jespa murmured sleepily. “He can read minds.” 

Needless to say, Luke didn’t sleep much that night. 

The following day--his sixth day on the job--began as usual. He was given a report to bring to each of the captains; as this included Piett, Luke was excited. In the days since he’d been hired, he had expected that the captain would forget about him; but Piett had remained his friend, and would ask Luke about his day and how the experience was going for him whenever they happened to run into one another. 

Today was no different. After a few very tense encounters with some of the other captains--clearly they seemed to think Luke was far too young for the job--Luke burst eagerly into Piett’s office. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, marching proudly up to his desk to deliver the report. “I have something for you.” 

“Luke, it isn’t exactly proper protocol to address a captain without his title,” said Piett, but he smiled as he took the report from him. 

“I only do it for you,” Luke said with a grin. 

“Oh, this looks like fun,” Piett said sarcastically, skimming through the report. “Might put me to sleep, which would be wonderful; I hardly had any last night. How are things for you?”

“Great,” Luke said, trying to forget his conversation with Jespa the night before. “I get my first paycheck next week.” 

Piett grinned. “Wonderful. I remember the first week I was here, I--”

A sudden _ shriek _interrupted them. 

Piett went white. 

“Oh, no,” he said. “You...you’d better stay in here--”

But Luke was already walking for the door, alarmed and slightly curious. Cautiously, he peered outside into the hall, searching for the sound of the noise; and then he found it. Jespa was standing in the middle of the corridor, hands pressed to her face; on the floor in front of her was what had once been a stack of reports. Somehow, they seemed to have caught on fire, and now all that was left were ashes and blackened paper. 

Slowly, Luke slid out of Piett’s office to stand next to another officer. 

“What happened?” he asked quietly. 

“The techs were working on something in the wall,” the officer whispered back, “and one of the circuits sparked and caught the reports on fire. It wasn’t her fault, but it’s going to look like...it…”

He trailed off slowly, his gaze turning toward the end of the hall. Luke turned to look, and so did everyone else; and last of all, so did Jespa, with a small whimper.

Darth Vader was coming.

Luke had barely seen him before, and at the time he hadn’t been too frightened; it had only been five seconds, a glimpse of an enigma. Now, however..._ now. _He started to shake; he felt all the blood drain from his face; and, worst of all, a cold feeling came over him, like knives of ice, like a cold wind that wrapped around him and froze him stiff. He shivered. Darth Vader had to be over two meters tall; he towered over everyone in that corridor, even the tall officer who liked to mock Luke for his height, or his lack of it. He came quickly, marching toward them like an omen of death, his cape swishing behind him; and then there was that awful mask.

It looked like the face of a skeleton. Like...like something that was dead. 

Luke had been curious, until now, to meet Darth Vader face to face. Now, all he could feel was a desperate desire for the Dark Lord not to look at him. 

“What is this?” Vader demanded, his voice like something out of hell, every word a proclamation of doom. The helmet tilted toward the ground. “I know what this was.” 

“I--I’m sorry,” Jespa stammered, and all at once Luke realized that _ she _was going to bear the brunt of Vader’s rage. “I was just bringing these to--to you, one of the circuits--” Vader came a step closer to her, and she began to tremble. “It wasn’t my fault, I was just standing here--”

“Enough,” Vader rumbled, his voice dark and low. 

Then he said nothing. 

Everyone fell silent. Luke found that he couldn’t look at him, or speak; he could barely even breathe. The officer beside him was looking down as well. 

“It is unfortunate,” Vader said at last, “that those reports contained valuable information regarding the current location of the Rebel base...a location that many in the Empire would _ kill _to know.” 

At the word _ kill, _Jespa flinched. 

“Otherwise,” Vader went on, his voice coming like a _ hiss, _ “I might have been...more _ forgiving. _”

He was going to kill her. 

“No!” Jespa shouted; she must have figured it out as well. “No, it wasn’t my fault--”

“Don’t,” said a voice at his side, and Luke turned to see Piett standing there. The captain shook his head grimly. “Just look away until it’s done.” 

Luke stared at him desperately, but he couldn’t say anything. 

“It’s not my fault!” Jespa shrieked. “I swear, it’s not--”

A horrifying gurgle escaped her; like magic, her feet left the floor as Vader raised his fist, and she grasped at her throat. But Luke knew already that it would do nothing. 

Everyone else was looking away. 

_ No. _

Before he could think about what he was doing, Luke ran forward. 

“No!” he shouted, coming between them. “No! You can’t kill her! Stop, it’s me, she covered for me, _ I was carrying the reports!” _

The temperature _ plummeted. _With a thump, Jespa hit the floor. 

A shadow loomed. Slowly, Luke looked up...and up. Now the horrifying mask was turned on _ him, _and somehow he knew that Vader was glaring right at him. 

“What do you mean?” he thundered, and the voice was so sharp, and so _ loud, _ that Luke flinched. “Are you informing me that this is your fault, and you _ LIED?” _

“Um…” Luke looked back at Jespa, who was gasping for breath on the floor. He was signing his own death warrant, but he squared his shoulders and looked back at Vader. “Yes.” 

At once, all the officers turned to leave. 

Rage speared at him, straight at his mind; before Luke could think about what that meant, something as hard and as forceful as a sledgehammer struck him across the face, and he was thrown across the room to crash into the wall. Temporarily, Luke’s vision dimmed to black; stars shot through the sky in front of him. 

He couldn’t see. 

He couldn’t remember. What had…? 

Vader. 

As his memory returned, a grip like iron seized the front of his shirt, and he was lifted into the air. Luke’s head felt like it was exploding, stars danced, he could feel blood trickling down his cheek; but he knew he had to open his eyes. Slowly, with a herculean effort, he blinked and fought and eventually got his eyes open. 

Vader’s skeletal mask was _ centimeters _from his face. 

Terror shot through him--Luke shouted and fought the grip on him--but it was unshakable. 

“Do you know,” Vader said icily, “that lying to one’s commanding officer is punishable by death?” 

Luke couldn’t answer--he had lost the ability to speak. He could only see that awful mask in front of him, the mask of death; he swallowed, and swallowed again, and tasted blood. 

For that, the grip tightened, and he was shaken--the pain in his head _ flared. _

“Answer me!” Vader thundered. 

“I--I--” Tell the truth, he had to tell the truth. Just not the part about Jespa, who was still on the floor. “Y-yes. But--” Vader removed one of his hands from Luke’s collar, then fingers hard as steel were around his throat, he was going to _ die. _“But--but I’m new here, this is--this is my first week, you can’t--” 

“No!” A voice behind him--Piett. Thank you, thank you-- “Lord Vader, you can’t--” 

“Return to your office, Captain.” The voice was cold and merciless. 

There was a moment’s hesitation; then, slow footsteps, and the click of a lock. He was alone. He was alone and he was going to die, with that durasteel grip around his throat. 

_ I’m going to die I’m going to die he’s going to kill me I’m going to die-- _

The other hand on his collar was released. _ This is it. _ Somehow he knew; the situation would’ve told him anyway, but he _ knew _ Vader was going to kill him, he could _ feel _his fury, directed straight at him--

The grip on his throat began to tighten, to squeeze; Luke screamed, kicked out with his legs, but he could do _ nothing. _ He had feared this fate, wondered what it felt like to those who had to suffer it, but he hadn’t ever imagined the terror, the _ blind terror _ that would come from not being able to breathe--to draw air--from _ wanting _to breathe but not being able to--

Then it stopped, but did not loosen completely; Luke drew in a slow breath. There was curiosity. 

“You are _ new, _” Vader spat. “What is your name?”

He _ wanted _to know his name before killing him? That was cruelty beyond what Luke had imagined. 

“L--” It hurt to speak, it was _ impossible _to speak around that grip slowly crushing his windpipe; he coughed and tried whispering and finally screamed out, “Luke Skywalker!” 

Disbelief. 

Shock. 

The grip loosened altogether. Suddenly, there was nothing holding him up, and Luke dropped, striking his head on the floor. Darkness, once again--it was like a black hole, ready to swallow him up, and this time it was not as easy to break free of. But through it all a voice screamed, _ You’re in danger, you’re in danger, get up you’re in danger-- _

Groaning, and didn’t _ that _make his throat ache, Luke blinked his eyes open; the light stung, but he had to open his eyes--had to--

Hands on his arms, and he was again lifted to his feet; by Vader, right, Vader was going to kill him, he had lied to save Jespa--

Luke looked desperately around. She was gone. 

She was safe. 

Fearfully, expecting death--but it hadn’t come, why had Vader stopped--Luke struggled to focus, to concentrate the blurring colors into solid matter. The only one that stood out was black; black, broken by only blinking lights. Vader was right in front of him, almost filling his entire vision--shit, he was _ huge _up close, why hadn’t Luke realized this, a monster of a man--and with a great effort, Luke looked up at him. 

“Luke Skywalker,” Vader echoed, the words sounding like a pronouncement of doom. “Your name is Luke..._ Skywalker? _” 

Luke tried to speak; words wouldn’t come around the burning in his throat. He tried again. 

“Yes,” he whispered. It was all he could do. 

“You...you have the Force.” The world spun, and Luke swayed; the grip remained on his arms, but it was not harsh this time. Why? Maybe he was imagining that. “I can feel it.” 

The Force. He’d heard that, somewhere. 

“The…” He couldn’t speak; his words were slurring. His head was aching, constant flashes sparking at him from his brain. Sparks. Sparks, that’s what had caused the incident; he should tell the truth now...but he was confused… “The Force?”

“Yes. Do you know _ nothing _of it?”

Vader’s anger surged; fear shot through him, turning quickly to panic. Despite his current situation, Luke knew what it meant--he was going to die--

Instantly, the anger retracted. 

What did that mean? Luke didn’t know. The world was going dark again…

Leather, against his cheek; Luke’s eyes flew open. One of Vader’s hands had left his arms, was--was touching his cheek--sliding down toward his neck--

Terror. There wasn’t much else but that, he only knew--

The large hand, the durasteel fingers that somehow had the capacity to be delicate, froze. 

Luke could only be confused; Vader was confusing. This was not at all what he had expected. Well...well, the first part was. Vader had been furious with him, had backhanded him in his anger--choked him--and now he was being...almost...gentle.

An alarming thought struck him. Had he died? Was this all a dream? 

“What are you doing?” he asked, or tried to; the words slurred. There was blood in his mouth. 

There was no answer; not verbally. There was something inside, in his head--not words, but a comforting sort of...caress. Piett? Was Piett doing that? Or did it have something to do with the Force? 

“What--” he tried to ask, but it stung his throat. So he stopped. 

“Later,” Vader said, out loud this time. "Your questions will be answered, but first you must come with me."

Then the hand completely moved from his face, to his knees; it was under his knees. The other was behind his shoulders, supporting him, and he was being lifted by strong arms, by...someone. He felt safe for once, safe for the first time in six days, because he knew that nothing could happen to him while he was in this person’s arms...but who? Who was it? He was confused again, he’d hit his head too many times and he was still struggling to breathe; he couldn’t keep his head up. Fortunately, the person carrying him seemed to realize that, and shifted his grip to support his head. That was nice, it felt like a pillow; but underneath the pillow there was something hard--

Like durasteel--

Vader was carrying him?

But he’d...tried to kill him? 

Nothing made sense. 

And all the while, his throat continued to burn, to ache like nothing else ever had; it was like someone had taken a torch to the inside of his mouth. 

Luke didn’t know how long he was carried for, or how far; darkness kept coming in, piercing at the edges of his mind, and he slipped in and out of unconsciousness. The next thing he knew, he was being placed in something soft...a chair. He was sitting upright. The hands that had been carrying him were gone--the person was gone, Vader was gone--but a moment later he was back, and his head was tilted back, and a cup was pressed to his lips. Cool, cleansing water slid down his throat and _ ohhh, _that felt good. It hurt, but it also made the burning go away, and he wanted to drink it forever, wanted to drink until his throat stopped hurting and beyond--but then the cup was gone. 

Again, Vader left; and then again he was back. Something cool touched the side of Luke’s face, something cool and warm; water, a washcloth. Vader was...washing Luke’s face? There was something distinctly weird about that, and he couldn’t put his finger on--

No. No, he was cleaning off the blood. 

Why? Why would he do that? He’d just tried to kill Luke, and then--

A horrible idea struck him. Was Vader _ that _ angry? Was he doing this because...because he wanted Luke to heal completely and _ then _kill him for good? Luke had said he’d known the rule about lying, and he had; but in truth he had forgotten it, he’d been so desperate to save Jespa…

_ If only I’d remembered, if only, if only… _

“Luke,” rumbled the voice from hell, and Luke flinched; pain shot through his head at the movement. The cloth disappeared, and so did the warmth. “Luke, how are you feeling?” 

How was he _ feeling? _

Vader had just tried to _ kill him! _

But Luke didn’t have the strength to shout at him. He also didn’t know what would happen if he did. 

“I…” Kriff. That burned his throat; he needed more water. “I’m…” Well. He _ wasn’t _ okay, he was _ absolutely not okay, _but he couldn’t say that. “I’m not dead.” 

Something like humor reached him; humor that quickly turned back to...to...with an effort, Luke tried to trace the emotion--_ emotion _\--and found that he could. 

To concern. 

Darth Vader was _ concerned _about him?

Or--or he was just pretending, because he wanted to make Luke suffer for his mistake--those lieutenants had said he was cruel, hadn’t they, and they’d been right all along--

“Luke.” The hand was on his cheek--Vader was touching him again--and then it was gone, and then it was back. Like he couldn’t decide. “I…” With an effort, Luke focused on him, although the Sith was swimming in and out of focus. “I...I am _ sorry. _” 

Sorry? 

What did that _ mean? _

Luke really, really wanted to stop being confused. 

“Just...just tell me,” he croaked. “What...what do you--” Blood. Blood in his mouth, and he coughed, and _ that _ was disgusting. But more than that, there were tears, and he didn’t know where they were coming from, or why. And he was _ crying in front of Darth Vader. _“What do you--” He had to cough again, and the hand slid down to his shoulder. Hopelessly, tears blurring his vision, he looked at the dark horror in front of him. “Why?” 

“Luke, I…” Vader was _ kneeling in front of him, _how had he not noticed that? “I am…” The one hand stayed on his shoulder, and the other was on his head, moving his hair off his forehead. “I was once Anakin Skywalker.” 

Skywalker. 

What? 

What did he--

Did he mean--

“No,” Luke whispered. “That’s…” Another cough. 

“You are my son,” Vader said, gently, possibly as softly as he could speak, and the hand in his hair was comforting. “I thought you _ dead. _” 

How was it possible? How could it be possible? 

Part of Luke thought he was still dreaming, because how could Vader be gentle? But if Vader was his father, it made sense…

His father. 

Despite his current condition, despite being half conscious, Luke realized the truth. He had spent his whole life searching for his father, hoping he was still alive...he had gone to the Academy hoping, in part, that his father would find him...even though other cadets had mocked him for it…

And his father was here. 

His father had almost killed him. 

“But you--” He still _ couldn’t speak, _damn it. “You tried to--” 

“I _ know. _ ” There was sorrow in that voice--and sorrow leaked through the...through the Force, Luke realized, he _ did _ have the Force. “I know, my son. And I wish I never had.” Vader’s hand on his head slid down slightly, to his face, wiping something away--tears, that’s right, there were tears. “And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will do _ whatever _you wish. I will give you what you wish, I will protect you from everything that might harm you, I will do _anything _if it takes away your fear of me. I...” One thumb slid across his cheek; there were no tears there. He had touched him...for the purpose of touching him. "I do not want you to fear me, little one."

Consciousness was still threatening to leave him, his throat was burning, his head was splitting open--but Luke didn’t care. His father was here...and his father wanted him. 

He nodded, slowly, and did not fight the tears. 

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, F...Father.” 

Instantly, both hands left him, and Luke wondered if he shouldn’t have said that, if for some reason Vader hadn’t _ wanted _Luke to call him that...but a moment later the hands were touching him again, the arms were around him, crushing him to Vader’s chest. 

Vader was hugging him. 

It was Darth Vader hugging him, but it was also his father. The arms encircled him protectively, like a shield, and the embrace was unbelievably comfortable; Luke found himself sinking into it. 

In response, the arms tightened around him. 

The arms of his father. 

_ Father, _Luke thought, happily, giddily; he wondered if he wasn't slightly loopy. As the arms tightened around him in response, his consciousness began to fade, he fell into sleep--but before the darkness took him completely, two words reached him across the Force. 

_ My son. _


	4. A Jedi, A Smuggler, And A Sith Lord(Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By absolute chance, Hondo Ohnaka has managed to capture Darth Vader, who will be delivered to the Rebellion...but before all is said and done, Luke Skywalker and Han Solo need to make sure he's officially been captured and it isn't a trick. But little do they know that capturing Vader is not all that the pirate intends.   
Takes place pre-Empire Strikes Back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy May the Fourth! I got this done juuuust in time, but I did it. 
> 
> In preparation for Season 7 of The Clone Wars, I've been rewatching the previous seasons, and I wondered...what would happen if Luke and Han got stuck in a cell with Vader like in That One Episode?   
Needless to say, this is just part one of three.

“Wait, wait, wait. So--” Luke put a hand to his mouth, trying to keep from laughing. “So. So, you’re telling me--” He broke off again, tightening his abdomen, laughing silently for several seconds, but it was too much--abruptly, out of his control, a small giggle escaped; that allowed for the rest of his laughter to explode out of him. “You’re--you’re telling me--” Another set of giggles escaped; it was just  _ too funny.  _ Somehow,  _ somehow  _ he got his laughter under control long enough to finish his question. “You’re telling me that  _ Darth Vader has been captured by a bunch of kriffing pirates? _ ” 

“Yes,” Leia said evenly. “Luke, don’t laugh. I’m being completely--”

On Luke’s other side, Han snickered. “Oh, we know you’re being serious. It’s just a little  _ odd  _ to picture Lord Bucket Head--”

“Han,” Leia snapped. 

“Yes, Your Worship?” Han said sweetly. 

“Do me a favor. No--” Leia pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, actually, do me two favors. One, don’t call me Your Worship.” 

Han saluted. “Yes, Your Highnessness.” 

Leia clenched her fists and looked up toward the sky. Luke figured she was trying not to kill him. 

“Second,” she said firmly, “do  _ not  _ call  _ Darth Vader  _ ‘Lord Bucket Head.’”

Han shot Luke an incredulous look; Luke shrugged. He’d seen them fight enough times to know he did not want to be involved in whatever this was going to turn into. 

“And why not?” Han rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m gonna be in a position where I can say that to his face.” 

Leia smirked. “Oh, really?” 

Now she was bluffing; the last thing Leia wanted to do was to be in contact with the man who’d tortured her and let her planet be blown up. Luke shook his head. She’d finally had enough and decided to mess with Han. 

“Leia, that’s enough,” Luke said with a laugh. “Stop joking.” 

“Luke.” There wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face. “I’m not joking.”

Han looked at him in alarm. 

“Wait, but--” This was so absurd Luke almost laughed again, but he knew how that would go over. “You mean he’s...he’s going after Darth Vader?”

“Not just him,” Leia said, and she had the  _ audacity  _ to look slightly amused. “You, too.” 

“I--” Luke couldn’t believe his ears. A thousand times over the last seven months Leia had told him not to be angry about Ben’s death, about his father’s death, about her own torture, to not go  _ looking  _ for Vader, because he wasn’t ready to face him, because he was the only hope for the Rebels, and now...now she  _ wanted  _ him to? “Do you really mean I--”

“Uh-huh.” Leia sighed. “Look, I’m not happy about it, but...the situation is that he’s been captured by Weequay pirates--” 

Once again, Han snickered. He seemed to have gotten over his alarm. 

Leia leveled a glare at him. 

“One would think,” she said, “that upon hearing that  _ Darth Vader  _ had been captured by pirates you might actually wonder if the pirates themselves are a terrible threat?”

“Oh, come on.” Han smirked. “I can see how  _ you’d  _ think that, but I’ve met just about every kind of pirate that exists.” 

“Up until six months ago, you were a pirate,” Luke said. 

“That, uh, proves my point, kid.” Han looked back at Leia. “See? I know pirates. And, sure, some of them are dangerous...but against Darth Vader? Look, I saw him cut down that old man right in front of my eyes.” 

Luke closed his eyes. Did he  _ have  _ to phrase it like that? 

“Him captured by pirates? Maybe he’s weaker than we thought.” 

Maybe Han could hope, but Luke didn’t think so. 

“He’s probably just pretending to be captured,” he said. “So he can wait for us to show up and--”

“I  _ know, _ ” Leia said; her expression was pained. “Do you think that hasn’t crossed my mind? But the situation is that he’s been captured, and if we take him into our custody, that would give us at least  _ some  _ leverage over the Empire.” 

She looked absolutely desperate, Luke realized, and decided that his personal feelings had to take a backseat. Ever since the Battle of Yavin, they’d been on the run; they were currently at their fourth base in seven months. If there was a chance at any kind of advantage...she was going to take it. 

“Okay,” he said. “Then why don’t we have him?”

“That’s...that’s the thing.” Leia pursed her lips. “We don’t know if they actually have him, or if they’re just trying to trick us. So I’ve agreed to send the two of you to make sure he’s at their complex, along with several other troops to make sure he doesn’t...try anything on the way back here. They said they’d put him in cuffs that he can’t break free of, but…”

“You want to be careful anyway.” Luke nodded. “I get it.”

“Well, it’s not that simple. Both of you have, as usual, missed a pretty obvious point.” Han crossed his arms. “They’re pirates. They’re going to want to get paid. We work for the Rebellion.” He spread his hands. “How, exactly, are we paying them?”

Leia hesitated, as if she didn’t want to say. 

“The sum...is...high,” she said at last, and immediately Han turned away. 

“All right, I knew it. I knew it!” He chuckled. “That’s it, I’m out. C’est la vie, Princess, I--”

“Oh, get back here, you buffoon,” Leia snapped, and Han turned around with all the reluctance of a five-year-old being forced to come to dinner. “See, I  _ did  _ think of an answer, and here it is. They asked for one hundred pounds’ worth of spice, weapons, and other equipment; they don’t like credits.” 

Han snorted. “Like we have that. What is Luke gonna do, wave his fingers?” He turned around. “No offense, kid, but I saw the one time you tried that. It got us locked up for two days.” 

Luke opened his mouth, insulted. 

“Luke’s not going to do anything,” Leia said firmly. “ _ He  _ is going because he’s a Jedi and if Vader  _ is  _ pretending to be captured, he’s the only one who’s going to be able to do anything about it.” 

“Okay, sure,” Han said. “But then why am--”

“ _ You  _ are going,” Leia continued, “to...persuade the pirates to give Vader to us for any price that we can pay.” 

Han shut his mouth. 

“Oh, finally,” Leia said. “So now that you’ve agreed to it--”

“We’ll go,” Luke said, before Han could offer any more objections. “It’s just the two of us going, right? And then Mothma’s going to show up with the ship to escort him back?” He grinned. “This’ll be great. Vader’s gonna be so--”

“That’s…that’s not all.” Leia sighed. “They’ve requested that you come unarmed.”

“ _ What? _ ” Luke and Han said together. 

Leia shook her head. “I--I’m afraid that--”

“We can’t do that!” Luke burst out. He’d been patient for so long, but this was ridiculous. “You just said there’s a chance Vader’s bluffing, how am I supposed to fight him without my lightsaber? Ben didn’t--he didn’t teach me much else besides that!” 

“And how am I supposed to blow the pirates’ heads off when they inevitably betray us?” Han said. 

“Han,  _ NO, _ ” Luke and Leia said at once. 

Han sputtered, and they both ignored him. 

“Luke, I know you need your lightsaber, I…” Leia broke off, as if she didn’t know what to say. “It’s just the way it has to be. And trust me, Luke, you  _ are  _ good without your lightsaber. You destroyed the Death Star without it, didn’t you?” 

Luke smiled. She always knew what to say to make him feel better. 

“I guess I did,” he said. “I just…” He clenched his fists. “Vader’s taken everything from me. From you. I mean, he tortured you!” 

“Luke, I’ve told you before, you don’t need to feel angry on my behalf.” Leia clenched her jaw. “I feel angry enough myself.” 

“You get what I mean.” Luke sighed. “With a lightsaber, I just...I stand a better chance of taking care of him once and for all.” 

“I know. But you bring him back here, and…” A small smile turned up the corners of her lips. “He’ll see true justice. Once we use him as a bargaining chip with the Empire…” Determination burned in her eyes. “He’s gone. Once and for all.” 

Luke grinned. “Sounds like a plan.” 

Leia’s eyes softened. “Take care, Luke. I…” For one second, just one, her face crumpled; then composure returned. “I do  _ not  _ want to lose you to that monster.”

“You won’t,” Luke said. “He tries anything and I...I’ll knock him down.” 

“I don’t know how you could do that, he’s almost as big as Chewie,” Han said behind them. “Knocking him over would be like knocking down a statue made of pure gold.” 

Slowly, both Leia and Luke turned to glare at him. 

“Luke doesn’t care about your opinion,” Leia said icily. 

Han spread his arms defensively. “Listen, Princess, I’m just weighing in over here, don’t mind me.” He smirked at her. “Gee, you’re not gonna ask me not to die, are you?” 

Leia looked at him. For a minute Luke was afraid she was going to profess her love for him; then he decided it didn’t matter. They were all just friends. 

“Be careful,” she said at last. 

Han grinned. “I’ll take it.” 

Luke rolled his eyes. 

  
  


Together, Han and Luke stepped off the  _ Falcon’s  _ ramp and onto the sandy ground. Then they stood there, looking at the world in front of them.

“Great,” Luke said. “Lots and lots of sand.” 

Han cast a look around. The planet of Florrum was an ancient, dirty dustball, with hardly a settlement besides the pirates’ complex to be seen. There were bound to be only pirates here, no one with an ounce of morality or honor, all looking for money, a drink, and maybe a shootout. Not necessarily in that order. 

Han grinned. This was where he belonged. 

Luke groaned. “Don’t tell me this is gonna to make you want to leave the Rebellion.” 

“Leave?” Han shot him an incredulous look. “Kid, I ain’t joined yet.” 

“Yeah.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “Right.” 

Han ignored him. “Come on, let’s go.” 

They walked forward, and at once Han was aware of how  _ strange  _ it was not to be wearing his blaster. Ever since he was twelve, he’d known the only objective truth in life: never let your guard down. So he’d always been ready--with his blaster, and also with a snake’s tongue, but the blaster always came first. Words weren’t always good enough to get out of a situation; but a blaster could always be counted on. A weapon. Even the kid’s lightsaber wasn’t enough; if you had to be trained to use it, it wasn’t useful. Even a rookie could do some damage with a blaster. 

And Han was no rookie. 

And yet, here he was, with no blaster, and with a kid who seemed to believe everyone was born into the world with either good or bad intentions. 

As the thought crossed his mind, several Weequays stepped out of the complex and began walking towards them. Han put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. 

“You let me do the talking,” he said. 

Luke frowned. “And you’ll do any better than me?”

Han sighed. “Just...just let me--”

Then they were surrounded, and Han stopped talking. The pirates didn’t speak, not immediately; instead, they walked right up to them and started searching them, patting them down. One hand yanked something out of Han’s pocket--the dice, he realized. 

“Hey,” he snapped, snatching them back. “Those ain’t weapons.”

“Oh?” said the pirate; he looked like a nasty one. He was taller and broader than Han, and he was missing an eye. “Then what are they?”

“They’re mine, and they belong to my ship,” Han said evenly, returning them to his pocket. “Nothing to worry about.” 

The pirate narrowed his eyes at him in a universal gesture for  _ I’ll get you later.  _ Then he stepped back. 

“They’re clear,” he announced, and the pirates stepped aside to allow Luke and Han to walk forward. 

“One of those pirates was a woman,” Luke whispered to him after a few seconds. 

Han resisted the urge to laugh. “What’d she do, slap your ass?” 

“No,” Luke said, but he was blushing. 

Han smirked, but he didn’t say anything, because now the doors were being swung wide for them, and they entered the pirates’ complex. 

Now  _ this  _ is home, Han thought with a grin. In front of them was what looked like any cantina he’d been in: drab, dingy, with the sound of music and the laughter of creatures becoming more and more drunk. Pirates were scattered across the long room, some sitting at the table drinking cups of...something, some were patrolling the corridors, and at one end of the table a pirate stood up and came toward them. Between the expensive clothes, the swaggering walk, and his...flair, Han could tell he was the pirates’ leader. 

“Welcome, Rebel fighters,” he announced at a volume that meant this was not going to be a very private conversation. “I have been waiting for you! I am Hondo Ohnaka, and…” He frowned. “And who are you?”

“That’s our business,” Han said smoothly. “We’ll tell you  _ after  _ we’ve seen the prisoner.” 

“Straight to business, I see,” Ohnaka said, looking slightly disappointed. “Very well. I expect you have come for proof that we are holding Darth Vader in our cells?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke open his mouth. 

“We are,” Han said quickly. “I have to admit, I’m...very impressed that you managed to capture him, but…” He hesitated slightly, allowing for Ohnaka--and the dozen pirates standing in earshot--to get anxious. Unfortunately, the pirate’s demeanor didn’t change. “You’ll have to forgive me for doubting, but--”

“You wonder if he is pretending,” Ohnaka said, and Han blinked. “There is no need to worry, my friend! It is difficult to catch a Sith Lord, but I have experience. He was caught off guard.” 

Han snorted at the idea of Vader being caught off guard; and as to ‘catching Sith Lords before,’ he very much doubted that Ohnaka was telling the truth.  _ Luke  _ was another matter; his head had whipped toward Han, but that was why Han was doing the talking. He understood Ohnaka. The pirate just wanted his reward, obviously; and why shouldn’t he? But they had a bargain of their own to make. 

“Nonetheless,” he said, “if you don’t mind…” 

“Very well,” Ohnaka said. “You  _ are  _ a pushy one.” He turned around. “Follow me.” 

  
  


Luke was growing more uneasy by the minute. 

He hadn’t been anxious at first; not when they landed, not even when they were searched. But hearing Ohnaka say that he had “experience” with Sith Lords...Leia’s words had come rushing back to him. 

_ You might actually wonder if the pirates themselves are a terrible threat.  _

He didn’t know anything about the Clone Wars; he didn’t know what his father and Obi-Wan had experienced then, and he certainly didn’t know of any other Sith Lords that might have existed. But if Ohnaka had been around back then…

Luke hadn’t been with the Rebellion long, but what he’d learned was that anyone who’d survived the Clone Wars was not to be underestimated. 

If only Han would let him take charge, and do something...Han was too cocky. Of course he had experience with pirates, but this was Darth Vader they were dealing with. 

And after ten minutes, they still hadn’t arrived.

“How far back are you keeping him?” he asked as they walked through the maze of cells. Kriff, this would be tough to escape without a knowledge of the place, and without a guide to lead them. “This is a lot of cells.” 

“It is indeed,” Ohnaka said, “but he is a very dangerous Sith Lord! I expect you understand that.” 

“Oh, I do,” Luke said. “Trust me. The sooner he’s in our custody, the better.” 

Han shot him another look, but Luke didn’t care. 

Ohnaka stopped at last, in front of the very last cell in the corridor. “And here we are!” 

He pressed a button, and the doors swung open. 

The cell was small, only about ten meters from wall to wall; and in the center, a hulking black shape hung suspended. Luke shuddered. 

_ Darth Vader.  _

The man who had killed his father. 

The man who had killed Obi-Wan. 

The man who had tortured Leia and given her enough nightmares to last a lifetime. Occasionally, Luke still heard her wake up screaming…

He clenched his fists. 

“Hello, my old friend! How are you?” Ohnaka strode into the cell. “Would you look at this! I’ve brought guests.” 

And yet, Vader did not respond. 

Han rolled his eyes. “What, is he sleeping?”

“He does this often, unfortunately,” Ohnaka said. “I suppose he has the ability to meditate.”

But Luke didn’t think he was meditating. He didn’t know much about the Force, but one thing Obi-Wan had shown him was how to...sense other beings, to feel them, to feel their emotions; and with other Force-sensitive beings, how to sense their level of consciousness. 

And Vader was nowhere near unconscious. 

“Wake up,” he snapped, striding closer to the huge, dark form. “Hey, snap out of it! I know you’re faking, you coward.” Anger shot through him. “The man who killed my father couldn’t possibly be this weak. Come on!”

But there was still no response. 

Was he wrong? Was Vader really just...meditating?

“Hey!” Han grabbed his arm. “Hey, Luke. Calm down. We can see him, we know he’s here. We need to send for Mothma.” 

Luke took a deep breath, and calmed down enough to feel embarrassed. What was he  _ doing?  _ He was out of line, shouting like that; and if Vader really was conscious, he had to be amused. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Luke turned to Ohnaka. “All right, we’ve seen him.” 

“Excellent.” Ohnaka rubbed his hands together, and they left the cell. “It’s time to negotiate.” 

The door closed behind them; still there was no response from Darth Vader. 

At least, not visibly. 

For one single second, something reached toward him: a whisper of something, searching. Probing. Startled, Luke looked back at the cell. 

The presence vanished. 

Reluctantly, Luke turned to follow Han and Hondo Ohnaka toward the cantina.

  
  


It took two hours, but at least Han and Ohnaka had reached an agreement: two shipments’ worth of weapons and explosives, and one of spice, would be delivered. It was a third less than the original amount, but still extremely costly; however, they weren’t really losing anything. Following the negotiation, Han took Luke aside. 

“Hey, brighten up, kid,” he said. “Only twenty pounds of those weapons belong to us.” 

Luke was shocked. “How? What? What do you mean?”

“I know a smuggler in the area,” Han said. “He owes me a favor, and he’s got his hands on enough weapons and spice to last a lifetime. He’ll meet Mothma twenty-four hours from now.” 

“Twenty-four hours.” Luke looked around. “Does that mean...we’re staying here?”

“I guess so.” Han leaned back in his chair. “Relax! We’ll have fun. Just do what I do, and nothing’s gonna happen.” 

But Luke wasn’t so sure about that. 

“My friends!” Ohnaka exclaimed, and a hand was resting on each of their shoulders. “May I treat you to a drink?” 

Luke had seen those drinks. He didn’t want one. 

“No, thanks,” he said. Han elbowed him. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” the smuggler said with a grin. “Sure, we’ll drink.” 

This time it was Luke’s turn to shoot Han a look. 

“Hey, come on,” he said. “I’ve had those drinks before. They’re not as bad as Corellian twisters, that’s for sure.” He smirked. “You think you can’t hold your liquor?” 

“I can hold it,” Luke shot back. 

Han put his arms behind his head. “I knew it.” 

“So, my friends,” Ohnaka said, coming to sit by Luke while the drinks were being prepared. “Are you staying on Florrum?” 

“Only for a drink,” Luke said firmly. He felt Han stiffen next to him, but this time he was setting his foot down. “The Rebel shipment will be along tomorrow, and then Vader will be out of your hands. We’re not needed for that.” 

Ohnaka frowned. “Are you sure? He is, after all, a very dangerous Sith Lord.”

“Yeah,” Han muttered. “Are we sure?”

Luke ignored him. 

“You said it yourself,” he said with a smile. “You have experience with Sith Lords.”

Ohnaka actually looked taken aback, and for a moment Luke wondered if he shouldn’t have said that. Then, the pirate guffawed. 

“I like you,” he said, putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Do you know something? You remind me of someone I used to know.” 

Someone he used to know. He’d lived through the Clone Wars--

“Now that we have our deal,” Ohnaka said, “would you mind telling me your names? The payment is, after all, a good deal less than originally set forth.”

“No,” Han said. “We’re good.” 

Luke nodded, against his will. They couldn’t give their names; Han was right. 

But if Ohnaka thought he looked familiar…

Had he known Luke’s father? 

These pirates were on Florrum, after all; they were in the Outer Rim. There was no danger of them figuring out Luke had blown up the Death Star. 

“Sure, I’m Luke Skywalker,” he said, and Han stiffened. “And he’s…” But, he realized, there was a greater chance of these pirates knowing Han. “He’s classified.” 

Han let out a breath. 

“Of course he is,” said Ohnaka. “Han Solo is famous in the world of pirates!”

Han choked. 

“But  _ Luke Skywalker. _ ” Ohnaka removed his hand from Luke’s shoulder to rub his chin. “Now, that name sounds very familiar, and--ah! I remember. Many years ago, two Jedi appeared to--” He chuckled. “Well, this is amusing. Two Jedi came here, into this very room, to make sure we were holding the Sith Lord Dooku prisoner.” 

Two Jedi. Luke leaned forward. “Yes?” 

“And one of them was named Anakin Skywalker.” 

Anakin Skywalker. Hope leaped in his chest; Ohnaka  _ had  _ known him! 

“You look quite like him; and, while certainly not as fierce, your...temperament reminds me of him. He wanted answers, immediately. Not like Obi-Wan Kenobi, the negotiator; he knew how to demand things. He was quite a character; I wonder what happened to him.” Ohnaka frowned. “You wouldn’t...happen to be any relation of his, would you?”

“Of course,” Luke said, suddenly finding that he liked Ohnaka more. “I’m his son.” 

“His son! I knew it. I didn’t want to say it, but I knew it.” Ohnaka stood up. “And here are your drinks, gentlemen!” 

Two glasses were set down in front of them, each containing an icky green liquid. Luke wrinkled his nose. 

Han immediately took a drink. 

“Come on, kid,” he said, wiping his mouth. “It’s good.” 

Reluctantly, Luke lifted the glass to his lips. Immediately, the liquid stung his throat, forcing him to cough; but after he’d coughed and sputtered and pretended that this was not, in fact, just the second time he’d had any kind of drink, he realized it did taste good. 

“Ohnaka,” he said, suddenly remembering. The pirate turned back to him. “You said my father came here to...inspect a Sith Lord. What happened? Did they bring him back?”

“Oh, yes,” Ohnaka said. “They were Jedi, and they came with many ships of the Republic. Quite a pair, those two.” He patted Luke’s shoulder. “Enjoy your drink!” He raised his glass. “To friends, and guests, and a generous reward!” 

With a shout, the rest of the pirates took a drink. 

Grinning at Han, Luke raised his glass and took another drink. 

“Well,” he said, thumping Han on the back. “Another mission accomplished.” 

“See?” Han smirked. “I told you these pirates weren’t so--”

Mid-sentence, his eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward. 

Alarm shot through Luke. “Han?” He shook his friend’s shoulder. “Han!” 

But there was no response. 

No response, and Luke realized that  _ he  _ was actually growing more exhausted...he could barely keep his eyes open…

_ Screw you, Ohnaka,  _ he thought as the sounds of laughter began to fade.  _ You double-crosser, you drugged our drinks.  _

Then the world went black. 


	5. A Jedi, A Smuggler, And A Sith Lord(Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Revenge of the Fifth everybody! Part three should be up tomorrow.

It was the pilot. 

Vader had doubted, he had wondered why his instincts told him not to attempt an escape yet; but now he knew. Pretending to be unconscious had been irritating, but it had its uses after all; when Ohnaka and the two Rebels had entered his cell, he had been able to study them without being detected. He had not recognized them immediately, but something about them had seemed...familiar. Then, while he had tried to place where he’d seen them, the younger one, the _ boy, _had started...shouting at him. And then Vader had remembered where he’d seen him--and the other Rebel--before. 

The Death Star. 

They had rescued Leia Organa.

And it had been _ this boy _who had screamed out for Kenobi. 

And then, Vader had realized that something about this boy felt familiar in another sense. He felt familiar _ in the Force. _It had taken a moment of waiting, more excruciating seconds of remaining absolutely still, but as Ohnaka and the Rebels left Vader had been able to reach out with the Force and search the boy’s presence. 

Immediately, he had known--it was _ him. _

The pilot who had destroyed the Death Star. 

He would know that presence anywhere. 

And as they left, presumably returning to the front of the complex, a plan began to formulate in his mind. Knowing Ohnaka, he would make up his mind to get more of a reward out of this; naturally, the two Rebels would be offered drinks. Then they would be brought to his cell…

Then he would interrogate the pilot; of course, he would be unable to break free of these bonds, but there were...other ways of gaining information. He could use the Force to a minute degree, search his mind; he could intimidate him; he could harm him with sheer force until he caved. He was certain that he was stronger than both Rebels; the other man wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Possibly, Vader might be able to interrogate him, too. 

Eventually, they would end up escaping; thanks to...prior experience, Vader knew the layout of the complex well. He would get them out. 

He would kill the Rebels who would come for them. 

And then, he would kill the boy, too. 

It was a long several hours of sitting in that cell, but the thought made the wait worthwhile. Vader was not angry about the destruction of the Death Star; it had deserved its fate, and so had Tarkin and the others aboard it. The pilot’s use of the Force had proved what Vader had tried to make known to them, that such a monstrosity was completely insignificant next to the power that sang in his veins, that had given him his enviable position. 

But the destruction of the Death Star had made the Rebels a threat. It had endangered the peace that Vader and the Emperor had established, it had made that band of revolutionaries overconfident. As each day went by, that untrained child would only grow more confident in himself. 

But that wasn’t all. 

What infuriated Vader about him, what burned deepest of all, was that Kenobi had taken _ him _under his wing, had taught him the wrong things, had--most likely--given him Vader’s old lightsaber. 

He would relish killing the boy. He would also relish interrogating him; that would help alleviate some of the fury from being imprisoned by Ohnaka, again. Not that none of it had been Vader’s choice; the Force had told him to stay. But Ohnaka liked to taunt him, to mock his situation; and interrogating that boy, attacking his mind with the Force, doing all he could to get information out of him, would suffice for now. 

But to kill him, to feel the life leaving his body...that would be even better. 

After about two hours, Vader heard the sound of approaching pirates; this was it. They had succumbed to the drinks, and they were being brought back to be imprisoned in the same cell. Naturally, Ohnaka would repeat the same trick; he would not want them to escape. 

Unfortunately for him, he did not know that one of his prisoners had been caught here before. 

And that brought back many memories left forgotten; Vader shoved them away, irritated, as the door opened. 

“Lord Vader!” With his usual annoying flair, Ohnaka swept into the cell. “I have a surprise for you, which you may like...and which you may not like. But first...” He motioned two pirates forward. “I am happy to announce that you will not have to hang there any longer.” 

“Your mercy astounds me,” Vader said dryly. 

“Ah! So you are not sleeping. You are a clever man, Lord Vader; you remind me of someone I once knew.” Ohnaka stepped back, and the pirates stepped up to fasten cuffs around his wrists. Once they were fastened, Ohnaka pressed a button, and Vader was released...from the first set of chains, at least. He landed on the platform in the center of the room. 

“Now, you are free to walk around the room,” Ohnaka said, drawing his blaster, “but just in case, because you _ are _ a _ very powerful _Sith Lord…” 

Two more pirates stepped forward, carrying each of the Rebels over one shoulder. As Vader stood, Ohnaka’s blaster pointed at his mask, he noticed that the Rebels were already restrained, much like...Anakin had been: they both had cufflinks around their wrists, connected by a long blue cord that also went around each of their waists. The two pirates who had released Vader extended one of the cords restraining him toward the older Rebel, and then the pilot. 

_ I will kill you, _ he thought, staring at the pilot in fury. _ I will make you fear me, if you do not already, I will rip every thought from your mind; and then, when we have escaped from this sorry hellhole, I will kill you, and I will enjoy it. _

“They will keep you company until the Rebels arrive,” Ohnaka said, as the older man was dumped onto the floor, “so I will introduce them to you. This is Han Solo; he, you may be interested to know, is a famous smuggler with a _ horrifyingly large _bounty on his head.” 

“I did not know,” Vader said, “nor do I care.” His gaze drifted back toward the pilot; this one was smaller than his companion, and younger. How had such a child managed to destroy the Death Star? 

Well. He would find out. 

“But this one,” he said, as the pilot was dropped onto the floor beside his friend. “Who is he?”

“Ah, I am wondering if I should tell you,” Ohnaka said, a look of mock regret in his eyes. “You being a Sith Lord, and this Rebel being who he is, you...may disagree about a few things. I would not want one of you to kill the other and ruin my chance of tripling my reward.” 

He shook his head. 

But Vader would not have it. 

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me who he is.” 

“Ah, very well. You are as stubborn as…” Ohnaka scratched his chin. “Now. Now, there’s an interesting thought. But that’s for another time!” The rest of the pirates retreated from the cell. “This is Luke Skywalker.” 

Everything stopped. The room, Ohnaka, the other Rebel...nothing was there, no one was there, but the boy. 

Apparently, it only took four words to shatter his entire world.

“Enjoy,” Ohnaka said with a mischievous grin; and, leaving Vader with that soul-destroying revelation, he swaggered out of the cell. 

The door shut behind the pirate. Vader barely noticed it. 

_ This is Luke Skywalker, _ echoed in his mind, again and again. _ Luke Skywalker. Luke Skywalker. _

A moment before, everything had been in its proper place. He had a plan. He would escape. He would have his revenge, and then report back to his master. Palpatine would, for once, be pleased. 

Now…

_ “What do you think of the name Luke?” _

He’d been trained by Kenobi…

He had the Force…

He…

He was…

Vader had to see, he had to know for certain; and, as both Solo and...and his...and _ Luke _were unconscious, this was his only opportunity. 

Carefully, quietly, Vader walked over to where they lay and knelt. 

The action tore at his skin, burned his joints, and sent agony racing through him, but he did not care. Luke--_ Luke Skywalker-- _was lying half on his face. With the utmost care, almost afraid to touch, Vader reached out and rolled him over. Being restrained made it difficult, but at least his hands were in front of him, and there was a short distance between them. 

And now Vader could simply look. Observe. Drink in the appearance of…

Of _ his son. _

Blond hair, falling over his face. Him. 

Small, upturned nose. Hers. 

Cleft chin. His. 

And the eyes were closed now in unconsciousness, but Vader remembered, from when the boy had been here before; he had light eyes. Probably blue. 

His. 

_ The man who killed my father couldn’t possibly be this weak. _

Vader froze at the memory. 

He believed--he thought--had Kenobi--

His anger _ burned. _Luke believed Vader had killed his father. A brilliant deception, on Kenobi’s part; nothing else he told Luke could have been more effective. 

Luke must hate him. Despise him, with every fiber of his being. 

And, to make matters worse, that other Rebel, Han Solo, was here with them. That...would make things difficult. 

That would make telling Luke the truth difficult. 

But it would happen, Vader was sure of it. 

A sudden moan distracted him; Vader turned his attention back to Luke. For a moment, he thought the boy was waking up; but after a moment, his presence calmed and returned to unconsciousness. 

He was dreaming. 

Vader never thought this would happen. He had never dreamed, never imagined, that he would be able to watch his son asleep. 

Slowly, he moved one hand, crept closer to Luke’s face; if his hand had been flesh, it would have been trembling. Delicately--and that was difficult, for he had not had to be delicate in almost twenty years--he touched a hand to Luke’s forehead, traced a line downward, over his nose, gently touching the eyelids that fluttered in sleep, and then returning back, smoothing the hair from his son’s forehead. 

“Luke,” he said, the very act of speaking the name, the name of his son, a joy. A delight. He had not felt such emotions in...so long. “You are mine. You are _ my son. _”

Luke shifted in his sleep; Vader brushed a hand, once again, over the boy’s forehead. 

Then he retracted the hand from his son. 

His son. 

_ I have a son. _

And together, they would be unstoppable. 

  
  


Everything was dark. 

That was Luke’s first sensation; then, as he became conscious, he realized that he was lying down, on something extremely hard. The floor. Why was he lying on the floor? Luke struggled to remember. 

He’d been drinking, that was the last thing he knew; he’d been with Han, and Hondo Ohnaka, and he’d been drinking…

They’d knocked him out. 

Luke’s eyes flew open. He was lying on the floor, face-up; around him were gray walls, the signs of a prison cell; and his hands were cuffed. Fortunately, though, he wasn’t alone; Han was lying next to him, in a similar situation. A cord around Luke’s waist connected them both together. 

“Hey.” Luke nudged Han, who groaned. “Hey, you’re gonna want to wake up.” 

“In a minute, kid, in a--” Han’s eyes, half closed, shot open the rest of the way. “Oh, shit.” 

“Yeah. That about sums it up.” Luke couldn’t move comfortably in this position, but he could at least raise a hand to massage his forehead; he felt _ terrible. _“Ugh. I told you not to drink.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just...don’t tell the Princess, all right?” 

“That is assuming you see her again,” rumbled a voice from behind them. 

Luke spun around; Darth Vader was standing against the wall, looming over them. With a shout of alarm, Luke leaped to his feet and tried to back away; but something tugged at his waist, stopping him in his tracks, and with a yelp, he hit the ground. 

“Oh, great,” Han said. “It’s Lord Bucket Head.” 

If the situation had been _ any less _ dangerous, Luke would have groaned. After everything, Han really had just taken the first opportunity to call Darth Vader “Lord Bucket Head.” Leia would be appalled, _ if _they even made it out of here alive. 

“I am not pleased about the situation either, Solo,” Vader hissed, and Luke shuddered; he’d never heard him speak before now, and it absolutely lived up to his expectations. “But I can do nothing about it at present. You might notice that our chains are connected; you would have done better to notice it _ before _moving.” 

Luke’s fear left him in a second, and he clenched his fists. 

“Listen, it’s bad enough we have to be stuck in here with you,” he snapped, getting to his feet; Han stood up with him. “But could you at least refrain from mocking me every chance you get?”

Oddly, that seemed to render Vader speechless. He simply studied them for several seconds; and that, Luke decided, was worse. Being the subject of that singular gaze, which he could _ feel _boring into him through the mask…

“Very well,” Vader said at last, and while his tone was still absolutely terrifying, it seemed...lighter, somehow. As if he was amused. “While I desist from mockery, I expect the two of you will be figuring out how to escape?” 

“Oh, we don’t need to _ figure out _ how to escape.” Han smirked. “I already know how.”

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Oh, you _ do?” _Vader’s voice sounded, if it were possible, even more amused. “Please, enlighten me.” 

“It’s really simple, actually.” Famous last words. Luke braced himself for the worst plan in the history of plans. “There’s a guard outside this cell, right? My friend here is going to Jedi mind trick him into letting us out.” 

Somehow, that was worse than anything Luke had expected. 

“_ Han!” _he hissed, rounding on his friend. “You can’t--he can’t--”

“Oh.” Han looked legitimately surprised. “Sorry, kid, but it’s gonna help us.” 

In a panic, Luke looked at Vader, who as of yet hadn’t spoken. So far they’d been safe, but if Vader knew he was a Jedi...he’d _ killed _all the Jedi, if Luke remembered correctly, and he might decide to kill Luke here and now. Maybe Vader couldn’t fully access the Force, but that wouldn’t stop him; Leia had mentioned how Vader had killed men by lifting them off the ground, s

_ I wish I had my lightsaber, I _ really _ wish I had my lightsaber-- _

“At ease,” Vader rumbled, suppressed fury darkening his Force presence even further. “I have no plans to kill you at present, Skywalker.”

_ Skywalker. _

He knew. 

_ How did he know? _

“You--you know my name,” Luke stammered. 

Once again, Vader did not answer immediately; he simply stood there, staring at Luke. Luke swallowed around a lump in his throat. 

“Yes,” Vader said at last, and this time his voice sounded...softer. Luke decided that that was definitely creepy. “You come from a powerful line; and despite your utter lack of training, you have great potential in the Force.” 

This was getting more and more confusing by the minute. Was...was Vader actually _ complimenting him? _That--that didn’t make sense, it--

“What…” Maybe it was the effect of whatever he’d been drugged with, but Luke felt lightheaded. “What are you…”

“Death does not have to be your only option,” Vader pressed on, sounding more eager now as he took a step closer to Luke. “You can join _ me. _Your lack of training is inexcusable; under my tutelage you--”

“No!” Luke’s voice came out several pitches higher than normal. He took a stumbling step back, and once again the cord at his waist was pulled; this time, though, he was careful not to step back too suddenly. “Are you insane? You killed my father! There’s no way in _ hell _I’m joining you!” 

“You do not know what you are saying,” said Vader, his voice still oddly soft; in the Force, his presence had begun to close around Luke, even as he continued to come closer. “It is the _ only _way. You do not know your heritage--”

“So, Luke,” Han said behind him; Luke had never felt more relieved. “You want _ me _to get that guard over here, or…” 

“No, no, I’ll do it,” Luke said, wanting an excuse, _ any _ excuse, to get away from the Sith Lord who...who apparently wanted him to _ join him, _and Luke couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than...the alternative. Moving so as not to yank at the cord connecting him to Han and Vader, he crept toward the door and peered out. At first all he saw was the corridor in front of him; then he noticed a pirate standing about fifteen meters away. 

“Is that him?” he whispered to Han. “Is that the one?” 

“Yeah,” Han whispered back. 

“Okay.” Luke took a deep breath. “Okay, I--”

A shadow fell over them. “Do you understand the practice involved with mind tricks, young one?” 

Luke yelped and spun around. Somehow, Vader had snuck up behind them and was standing about two feet away; Luke had to crane his neck to glare up at him. 

“Okay, buddy, you don’t have to stand _ that _close,” Han said. 

Luke wanted to throw the smuggler into the wall. Vader may want Luke alive...for now...but Han? He was _ really _ pressing his luck here. Vader was a _ Sith Lord, _ and Luke was sure that no one had had the audacity to call him _ buddy _before. 

As if on cue, the temperature in the cell _ dropped. _

Luke looked in terror at Vader. He didn’t need the Force...all he needed to was reach out and snap Han’s neck…

_ Don’t do it, I know you’re a monster and you’re evil and you kill for a living, but please don’t… _

Luke held his breath. 

Gradually, the tension in the Force released. 

“You would be wise, Captain Solo,” Vader said, “to let your _ friend _do the talking.” 

“Well, maybe you should take a couple steps back,” Han shot back, and Luke was about to _ lose it-- _ “People work better without being under pressure, you know.” 

“Do _ not _ press your advantage,” Vader growled, but he did take several steps back. Still, Luke could _ feel _Vader watching, could feel his eyes boring into the back of his skull. 

But that was about as good as things were going to get for now. 

“Okay.” Luke took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll talk to the pirate.” 

Han patted his shoulder. “You can do it, kid.” 

“Excuse me!” Luke called. 

The pirate turned around and scowled. “What do _ you _want?”

“I just…” Luke cleared his throat. “I just have a question.” 

The pirate muttered under his breath, but all the same, he picked up his weapon and stalked over to the cell. 

“Yeesh, this guy hasn’t brushed his teeth in two years,” Han muttered. 

“All right,” the pirate growled. “Make it quick.”

_ Here you go, Skywalker, don’t mess this up. Focus on the Force… _

“I…” _ Let go. Let go. _“You want to put down your blaster.” 

The pirate stared at him, for one second, two--

Then he laughed. Luke’s heart sank. 

“I knew you might pull something like that,” he snickered. “Ohnaka warned me one of you might have...Jedi powers. Unfortunately for you, you ain’t no Jedi.” 

He turned to walk away. 

“It’s okay,” Han said, “I could tell you tried, and it’s a bunch of mumbo jumbo anyway.” 

But it wasn’t Han Luke was thinking about. He could still feel Vader right there, watching him...enjoying being able to watch him fail…

Suddenly Luke decided he was angry. He was _ not _going to let his father’s killer lord anything out of him, and he was not going to be afraid. 

“No,” he said to Han. “I’m going to try again.” 

Luke closed his eyes. He could feel Vader there, his presence hovering over Luke’s mind like dragon wings...but there was something else there, too. Something lighter, gentler. Helping him. Strengthening him. 

Ben. 

Luke closed his eyes, remembering what Ben had felt like in the Force. 

_ “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.” _

_ Reach out. _

_ “The Force will be with you...always.” _

He opened his eyes. 

“You want to turn around,” he said, and somehow his voice sounded...stronger. 

The pirate stopped. 

Luke held his breath. 

The pirate turned around, looking absolutely confused. “I want to...what?”

“You want to drop your blaster,” Luke said. 

The wait this time was longer. Luke held his breath, just waiting for the pirate to laugh in their faces; but it never happened. 

The pirate dropped his blaster. 

“Oh, kid, I can’t believe it, you’re doing great,” Han muttered. 

Luke’s confidence soared, and he waved his hand in front of the pirate’s face. 

“You want to unlock the door, and…” Damn. What did he want? Luke racked his brain…

“Have a drink, he wants to have a drink,” came Han’s voice again. 

Good idea. Luke reached out again. 

“You want to unlock the door and go have a drink,” he said; again, his voice sounded impossibly strong. 

“I...want to unlock the door and…” The pirate blinked. 

“You want to unlock the door and go have a drink,” Luke said, more forcefully this time. “Your friends are waiting.” 

“I want to unlock the door and go have a drink.” The pirate gasped, as if he’d just remembered something. “My friends are waiting!” 

Taking out a key card, he slid it through the door and ran off. 

Slowly, the door slid open, and Luke stepped forward. 

“Hey, that was great, kid!” Han grinned. “I didn’t think you could do it, but you did! I wish Leia would’ve been here to see that, the look on that guy’s face was priceless.” 

Luke grinned. “Right?” 

“That was impressive, young one,” rumbled the voice from hell behind them, and Luke suddenly remembered that they were not alone. “Most impressive.”

Luke had no idea what to say to that. Was...was that a compliment? Or a threat? Or...or was it Vader trying to get him to join him by complimenting him? Or all three? 

“One thing that needs more correction, however,” Vader boomed, “is your utter _ lack _of ability to shield your thoughts.” 

Shield? What did that mean? Ben hadn’t told him about that. 

Was Vader reading his mind? 

“I only had a day and a half,” Luke growled. “Because _ you _killed Obi-Wan.” 

Once again, the temperature dropped; and as much as the cords would allow, Vader stalked around to loom over him. Luke stumbled backward, too fast again; fortunately, Han was behind him to stop him from falling. 

“Kenobi _ deserved _what I gave him,” Vader hissed, the mask so close that Luke could feel air hissing out as the Sith Lord spoke. He shuddered and fought against his fear, against the instinct to turn away. “He should never have trained you, never have--” 

Vader broke away, as if he were starting to say too much. 

Luke’s fear vanished. What had _ that _been about? What was Vader not telling him? 

“Hey, don’t you think we should get going?” Han piped up. “Maybe you two could afford to stand here and insult each other all day, but in case you’ve forgotten, that guard could be back any minute. If you don’t want to go back in there...” 

The look on his face seemed to say, _ Your move, buddy. _

At least he didn’t say it out loud.

“You are correct, Captain Solo.” Vader stepped back and around so that he was in the lead. “Skywalker has gotten us this far, but now you must trust me.” 

Abruptly, he turned, cape snapping against Luke’s legs, and began marching down the corridor. The cord _ yanked _at Luke’s waist, and he had to half jog to catch up. 

“Trust you,” Han muttered. “Great. I feel safer already.”


	6. A Jedi, A Smuggler, And A Sith Lord(Part Three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke, Han, and Vader attempt an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I confess I've never seen Rebels, I don't know what Hondo was like in that show, so I'm sticking with Clone Wars canon here.

Hondo Ohnaka was in a good mood when he swaggered into the cantina that morning; this was a sign. The past years had been hard on the Ohnaka Gang; with the Empire in power, and especially with the Rebel Alliance growing in strength, their exploits had been less successful. Several times, Hondo had grown close to losing the alliance of his men, and had actually lost several individuals; and each time, he had won it back only by great luck...and in recent weeks, the pirates had once again grown restless. Desperate. And Hondo had, for once, grown anxious that he was going to lose his men...for good. 

But this latest success--the capture of Darth Vader _ and _two important Rebels--had renewed their hope for the future. They had not had fortune like this since the Clone Wars, and life was good. 

“Tell me, boys,” said Hondo as he lounged back in his chair, legs propped up and a drink in one hand. “When was the last time we had a bargain like this?” 

“I don’t know, Hondo,” said Kiro, grinning as he took a long drink. “This is a bigger bargain than I can remember. But I have to say…” He frowned. “That time we stopped a freighter carrying seventy pounds of spice, that was a good one.”

“Ah, I’m forgetting, you haven’t been with us long.” Hondo waved an arm toward some of his...older associates. “Anyone? Does _ anyone _ remember the Clone Wars?” He gaped in mock surprise. “I don’t believe it! Has all this drinking fried your memories?” 

“Oy, I remember,” said a pirate sitting in the back of the room. Hondo swiveled his chair to look at him; it was Pirk, the oldest pirate who _ hadn’t _betrayed him. “There was a Sith Lord we captured, wasn’t there? Count Dooku, wasn’t it?”

“Yes; Count Dooku. But…” Hondo ran a finger along the edge of the table. “But it was not only Dooku we captured.”

“The two Jedi,” said Pirk, sitting up. “I remember! Kenobi and Skywalker.” He chuckled. “What a prize they were; the two most famous generals of the war, and we had ‘em both! They’re both dead now, I reckon.” 

“Yes…they must be dead.” Hondo raised his eyes, then, to look up at the pirates. “At least, that was what I _ thought. _” 

Pirk frowned. “What...what d’you mean, Hondo?” 

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Hondo said idly. “Only…” Now he allowed himself to smile. “I’m beginning to wonder if...oh, but it’s no matter. I would only advise that, should they escape--” 

“Hondo!” The pirates all turned to look at the voice echoing; then, one of the younger pirates appeared at the end of the hall. Lyrus, the guard. “Hondo, they’ve escaped!” 

“Escaped?” Pirk demanded. “And how did that happen?” 

“I...I…” Lyrus looked confused. “I dunno. One minute I was there, and the next--” He swore. “The kid! The kid’s a Jedi, he tricked me!” 

The pirates all jumped to their feet. “After them!” 

“Settle down, boys, settle down.” Halfway out the door, the pirates turned to look at Hondo, lounging back in his chair. “Why are you in such a hurry? You forget who they are dealing with.” 

“And _ they _are two Rebels and a Sith Lord,” snarled Kiro. “Maybe you’re forgetting that this gang is smaller than it used to be, Hondo!” 

In a moment, he had drawn his blaster and pointed it in Hondo’s face. 

But Hondo didn’t even flinch. “And maybe you’re forgetting, Kiro, that I have caught Sith Lords before.” The pirate took a long drink. “I have a plan for dealing with them.”

Kiro dropped his blaster; the rest of the pirates crowded around Hondo. 

“Well, tell us quick,” growled Pirk. “They’re on the run now!” 

“They won’t get far,” Hondo said, waving a hand flippantly. “You see, I have an idea about Darth Vader. This reward the Rebels are giving me, it is not _nearly _enough to cover our...expenses!"

The pirates grumbled. 

"I think," Hondo went on, "that I can get Vader to give me twice the reward I am getting from the Rebels...by using one of our other two captives.” 

Pirk shook his head. 

“Hondo, Vader doesn’t care about any Rebels,” he said. “I bet he’d thank you if we killed those two.”

“Oh, but I think he will.” Hondo smiled, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “For one of these, he’ll make an exception. I have a theory, and I’d like to test it. And in return, we may get more of a reward.” He leaned forward. “Now. Here is what I’ll need from you.” 

  
  


This was by far the weirdest day of Han Solo’s life. Not that it hadn’t started out weird to begin with; he’d had a crazy dream that he was back serving the Empire, and that he was on a mission, but just when he’d orchestrated a brilliant attack against all odds, Chewie had shown up to tell him that there had been a Corellian coin in one of his socks when he’d thrown them in the wash, and as a result, the machine had malfunctioned. (That part had been real.) 

Looking back, he should’ve known from that dream how the rest of his day would turn out; because after that there hadn’t been any caf at breakfast, he’d learned that Darth Vader had been captured by pirates...and that he had to go and check that Vader was actually there...and that he couldn’t bring his blaster with him...and then Leia had said _ be careful. _ To think she’d ever have expressed that kind of sentiment to his face; she hated his guts, after all. Maybe it was a sign...well, no. He couldn’t get his hopes up, especially given what had happened after that: he’d watched Luke yell in Darth Vader’s face, he’d successfully negotiated with the pirates, they’d been _ captured _by the pirates, locked in the same cell as Darth Vader, and now they were escaping. With the help of said Darth Vader. 

Not to mention that Darth Vader had been acting...strangely...around Luke ever since. Strangely to say the least. What he wanted out of the kid, Han had no idea; but at least he was around to make sure Luke didn’t say anything he shouldn’t.

_ But that’s what it’s like, being the only person around here with any brains. _

“So, uh, Lord Vader,” Han said; he couldn’t stand the constant sound of that mechanical breathing, and they’d been walking too long. “You sure you know where you’re going? We’ve been going for a while, and--”

Faster than he could believe, Luke spun around, panic in his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he whispered. “Don’t think about it, just--”

But then the cord pulled at Han’s waist, signifying that they had stopped and that the Dark Lord himself had turned around to threaten Han again. Not that Han needed the cord to know that. No, it was pretty obvious from the way the complex had suddenly turned _ freezing, _the speed with which Luke had stepped out of the way--as much as he could move in their current position--and the way the floor reverberated as Vader came to loom over Han. 

_ Uh, overdramatic much? _Han thought as his heart pounded in his chest. 

“You presume _ far too much, _ Solo,” Vader hissed, taking a step forward; raising his hands defensively, Han took several steps back. “If you do not trust my expertise, I will show you just how experienced I am when we have completely broken free of our bonds and I am able to squeeze every last breath out of--”

“You are _ not _going to kill him,” Luke snapped, pushing his way between them. 

Immediately, Vader rounded on him, leaning forward into his personal space just as he had done to Han; but despite being more than a full head shorter, despite turning absolutely white in the face, Luke stood his ground. 

_ That kid doesn’t look like much, but he’s got it where it counts, _thought Han.

“And I suppose,” Vader said--did everything he said have to sound like some great proclamation?--shifting further into Luke’s personal space, “that you will be able to stop me if I attempt it?”

Luke swallowed visibly, and Han knew that Luke wanted nothing more than to move away...but he didn’t. He just took several deep breaths, as if he was regaining his nerve. 

“You said that you don’t want me dead,” Luke said at last. “Right?” 

Now it was Vader’s turn to look uncertain. “...correct.” 

“Then you won’t kill him.” 

“He is worth _ nothing, _” Vader snapped. 

Well, that was insulting, but Han had been told worse before. 

“You _ won’t! _ ” Luke crossed his arms over his chest, and there was no _ way _that would ever look threatening coming from him, but he didn’t seem to care. 

Vader did not respond immediately; he simply stood there, his mask tilted down at Luke, like he was...studying him. Sizing him up. And _ that _put a chilling thought in Han’s head; what if Vader had decided he suddenly didn’t want Luke alive? What if he’d decided to kill him? 

Luke stiffened, as if he’d just thought the same thing. 

Then Vader reached forward, one black-gloved hand seizing Luke’s chin to lift his head up, and that was _ worse. _ Luke had frozen, as if he didn’t know what to do, and Vader took the opportunity to turn Luke’s head this way and that, as if...as if _ inspecting him. _An instinct Han didn’t even know he had reared its head at the sight of Darth Vader touching the kid, and Han found himself marching forward. 

“Hey, Your Lordship,” he said, and with a snarl, Vader dropped his hand from Luke’s face. “What’s this about, anyway? You don’t actually--” He snorted at the thought. “You don’t actually care about him, do you?” 

He’d expected a curt reply, or even another threat, but what he didn’t expect was deafening _ silence. _ Vader’s helmet still pointed toward Luke, his hands clenched into fists, as if he was _ angry, _and...and this made no sense. 

And now Han was confused, because he’d totally been bluffing...but now Vader was acting insulted. 

Did that mean he actually _ did _care? 

In what world would that ever be true, Han was prepared to say, but he figured that would definitely get him killed. 

But...but did he...

“Of course not,” Vader said at last, coldly; yeah, he’d been wrong, and he’d better not ask that question again because then Vader stepped toward him again. “Are you challenging me again, Solo?”

“Uh, no, absolutely not,” Han said, and then forced a laugh. “Y’know, Your Excellence, I was just asking if you knew where we were going in the first place, no need for any kinda showdown--” Vader took a step toward him, and Han suddenly found himself speaking faster. “Andandand, and if you know where we’re going, great, that’s great, I won’t question it, I’m just here to provide back-up and buy drinks after we escape, how’s that?” 

Han grinned and prayed that that was enough. 

Vader continued to stare at him--at least that’s what Han guessed he was doing, he supposed Vader could’ve been looking up at the sky the way Leia did when she was pretending not to hear what he was saying--before clenching his hands into fists. 

“I would _ watch _ your _ tongue, _if I were you,” Vader snarled before turning sharply to face forward. “We must be on our way.” 

  
  


He’d come so close. So close to losing Han. 

Vader had been about to do it, too; any reference to the bonds was only designed to make Han more terrified, Luke just knew it. Vader didn’t give a damn about Han’s life, he’d been about to kill him...and Luke had _ just barely _saved him, by…

And that was the worst part. 

He’d done it by mentioning that Vader wanted him. And that in itself wasn’t terrible; but Luke just knew that Vader had realized he had an advantage over Luke, and it just wasn’t that he was stronger than Luke in every conceivable way. No, he knew he could get Luke to obey him now...just as long as he threatened Han…

And Luke would have to do it. There could be no second thoughts. 

Because he couldn’t let Han die. 

Vader had tortured one of his friends already; and then he’d killed Biggs over Yavin. Luke couldn’t let him kill another. 

But what did that mean for _ him? _

Luke didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about that searching gaze boring into him, those impossibly strong fingers on his face, that could’ve snapped his neck in an instant…

“Hey.” A touch on his shoulder--awkward, because of the cuffs, but still--and Luke turned around to look at Han. “You holdin’ up all right, kid?” 

“Uh...yeah,” Luke said with confidence he didn’t feel. “Yeah, I’m great.” 

Han raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, right, I know you too well, kid,” he said, and then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Hey, once we get out--”

“Han, watch it,” Luke hissed between his teeth, his eyes darting nervously toward Vader’s monstrous form several paces ahead. 

“Once we get out,” Han said, so low Luke could barely hear him, “I’ll make sure he’s not gonna seize the opportunity to take you off planet.” 

Luke hadn’t even thought about it, but now that Han said it, he realized, given Vader’s earlier remarks, that that was probably _ exactly _what Vader had planned for him. His blood ran cold. 

“Really,” he whispered, horrified. “He’d _ do that? _”

“Absolutely. But here’s the…” Vader’s helmet turned slightly, and Han dropped his voice down even further. “Here’s the thing, kid, I won’t let him.” 

It was Luke’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“No, serious, I can take him,” Han muttered. “Those buttons on the front of his suit have to do something, I bet you just shut one off.” 

Luke stared at him. “You really think there’s an _on-off switch?_” 

“Sure, he’s half droid anyway, I could just do it. Reach up, turn him off. That easy. Maybe drop a load of rocks on top of him, make sure he won’t get up.” 

“Han,” Luke said, and despite the situation he almost laughed. “Even if there’s such a button--_ which there isn’t-- _” 

Han snorted. 

“--there’s no way you’re gonna get close enough to do it. He’ll…” Luke swallowed. “He’ll kill you the first chance he gets. He can do it without touching you.” 

Han grinned. 

_ Oh, no, _Luke thought. 

“Maybe,” Han said lightly. “But he’ll be too busy dragging _ you _off to his ship, he won’t even see me coming.” He stretched his arms out in a way that was supposed to make him look impressive; or, at least, he tried to. The cuffs stopped the movement, and instead Han winced in pain, brought his arms back down, and awkwardly tried to make it look like a shrug. Luke smothered a laugh. “He won’t know what hit him.” 

“I will, actually,” rumbled Vader. 

Luke and Han both let out yelps of surprise and stopped short; however, when Vader showed no signs of stopping, they were forced to continue their walk. 

“How interesting,” Vader went on, sounding amused, “that you seem to believe that whatever I wish to do, you will be able to stop me.” 

“Well.” It came out in a squeak; embarrassed, Luke cleared his throat. “You’re not taking me off the planet. I’m going back with Han, and _ you’re _going back to the Rebellion!” 

“I do not see how that will happen, young one,” Vader said--what was it with _ young one? _ Luke was beginning to feel distinctly patronized, and he did not like it. “The Rebels will be arriving fourteen hours from now, and even _ if _ they were waiting outside now, I would be able to stop them, _ and _ get you off Florrum. Either way, you _ are _coming with me, young one.” 

“Stop _ calling me that! _ ” Luke snapped, fighting down the surge of fear he’d felt at _ that _proclamation. 

“I do not see the problem with it. You are young. It is simply a term.” Vader slowed, enough that he could turn around to look at him, and that was worse; the sight of those blank lenses was still as terrifying as the previous fifty times he’d had to look into them. “Unless you would prefer that I call you Luke?” 

Luke shivered. Hearing his name spoken in that dark baritone was chilling, it was...somehow, Vader made it sound all too personal. He couldn’t put his finger on it, he…

No, he could, and he wished he hadn’t. 

When Vader spoke his name, somehow he made it sound like Luke _ belonged _to him. 

“No,” Luke said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I wouldn’t prefer that, actually.” 

“As you wish.” 

That particular phrase was odd as well--something else that sounded personal--and Luke shivered again. What did he mean by that? 

“We are almost there,” Vader said, cutting off Luke’s train of thought; and then he picked up his pace, once again yanking at Luke’s waist and getting a grumbling mutter out of Han. 

_ Here we go again, _ Luke thought. _ I wish he’d stop doing that. _

He wished that about a lot of things Vader had done, but he couldn’t do anything about it. 

They turned several more corners, moving around boxes and scattered supplies and several blast marks--and wasn’t that odd--and then through a door. 

As they passed through, someone grabbed Luke’s arm. 

“Got you!” screamed a voice--a pirate, Luke’s mind dimly registered as a blaster was pressed to his forehead. Han was saying something--

Then something large--Vader--leaped in front of him; Luke was knocked to the ground, pulling Han down with him, and he watched in shock and horror as Vader seized the Weequay by the neck with one hand, squeezed, and--

There was a crunch, and the pirate dropped. 

Two seconds, Luke thought numbly, two seconds was all it had taken for--

Then a hand was on his arm, his waist was being yanked at, _ again, _and Vader had pulled him roughly to his feet. A yelp from behind him notified that Han had simply been pulled up with him. 

“You--” Luke broke off, gaze darting toward the pirate lying lifeless on the floor. “You just--”

“He was going to kill you,” Vader snapped. “Be grateful.” 

_ Yeah, I’ll be grateful when you don’t try to terrify me with everything you do! _

Vader’s hand on Luke’s arm tightened, bent so the mask was right in his face--terror shot through him--and then he turned sharply away. 

“Come,” he said. “We are not far, and our latest _ experience _has informed me that we must escape.” 

Once again, the march resumed, faster than ever; Luke wanted to tell Vader to slow down, before he and Han fell over and were simply dragged the rest of the way, but he didn’t know how that would go over. Vader seemed to have lost all his patience with Luke. 

Maybe he’d decide he wanted to kill Luke anyway. 

“Hey,” Han panted, “hey, Your Lordship--you know, we’re going a little--”

“Do not tempt me to give you the pirate’s fate, Solo.” 

Han swallowed. Luke simply shrugged at him, and they continued. 

“We are almost there,” Vader said after several minutes. “We will soon be free.” 

_ You will, _ thought Luke sourly. _ Not me. I’ll be your prisoner...maybe even your slave, if you’re that cruel. _

Shock reached him, through the Force; shock, and pure, unadulterated fury. Vader did not move from his current course, did not stop, but Luke knew it had come from him. And now he was confused, because that didn’t make sense, because--

Had Vader read his mind?

But what about anything Luke had thought would make him angry?

“Hey, I recognize this hallway,” Han said suddenly. “We went through here.”

Luke was yanked out of his thoughts and realized that Han was right; Hondo had led them this way when they had been taken to see Vader. 

That felt like a long time ago, he mused. 

They were almost there. They were almost back to the front--

But then they turned down a different way. 

“Hey!” Luke protested. Vader didn’t stop. He tried to drag in his heels, and was almost thrown onto his face. “Hey! Where the hell are you going, you--”

“We cannot return the way we came,” Vader announced. “I told you, Skywalker, that I _ know _where I am going. This will lead us out through a different path.” 

“You know, do you?” Han said. “And why is that, Your Excellent Majesty? Been here before?” 

It was an innocent question, and dripping with sarcasm at that, but the way that Vader reacted suggested that it was not. 

Vader stopped so abruptly that Luke fell forward into him, his head colliding with something _ hard _\--how much droid was he?--and quickly yanked himself back, embarrassed and slightly afraid. 

But Vader, for once, wasn't paying any attention to him.

“Do not--” Vader spun around and stomped forward, almost running into Luke in his hurry, and Luke had to quickly move himself out of the way. “DO NOT question me, Solo. I have spared you thus far, but throughout our _ journey _together I have not found a single use for you. Regardless of Skywalker’s wishes, the next time you question me you will be a dead man!” 

Sharply, he turned around and resumed his march. 

Han’s eyes were blown wide, and he looked, for once, as terrified as Luke felt; but as Luke looked at him, he quickly rearranged his expression into one of mock surprise. 

“Well, excuse me, Your Lordliness,” Han said under his breath. “‘You shall not question me, I will be obeyed, whatever I utter is now the law, even when I am clearly being overly melodramatic,’” he added in an impressively bad imitation of Vader’s voice. 

“Just shut up,” Luke hissed as they walked. 

Han shrugged. “Ah, I’m all right. I--”

“Listen, I’m serious, I _ don’t want you to die! _” 

Han blinked. “Oh. Well, uh...well, I’m...I’m sorry, kid. I guess I--” He moved to scratch his head, then lowered his hands when that apparently turned out more awkward than he’d thought. “Okay. If you really want it. But you gotta know,” he added under his breath, “getting under his skin is really, _ really _satisfying.” 

Luke chuckled. He could imagine that. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said. “I guess I can’t…” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I just lose everything when he starts talking to me, I forget what I’m saying. He’s just so…”

“Absolutely terrifying?” Han finished. 

“That’s a slight understatement.” 

“Yeah. Ha. Maybe.” Han snorted. “But you just know he’s doing it to get his way, and...you know, so far he’s said he won’t do anything to you.” He nudged Luke. “Maybe you’ve got some sway over him, kid.” 

“Vader?” Luke said incredulously. “No, Han. He just wants me for my power.” He shook his head. “And because I don’t know anything, it’s…” 

Han sighed. “It’s tempting, isn’t it?”

Luke had thought it, but hearing it made the idea horrifying. 

“No,” he said quickly. “No, no! Of course not! Vader’s evil, he killed my father, he killed Obi-Wan--”

“Yeah, I know all that, kid,” Han said. “I know. I’m not saying you’re tempted like that, you’re _nothing_ like him. Nothing, you hear me? But I mean...everyone else like you is dead. He’s the only one who knows anything about that mumbo jumbo shit. That’s the tempting part, right?”

Luke nodded helplessly. 

“Well…” Han sighed. “Hey, you figured out that mind control thing on your own, right?” 

“Well, it’s not mind control, exactly, but--yeah.” 

Han grinned. “There you go.” 

Luke frowned. “There I go?”

“You can be your own teacher,” Han said. “You don’t need _ him, _ you’re better than that!” He nudged Luke. “Look, if _ I _believe in you--”

Luke rolled his eyes. “All right, all right.” He chuckled. “Look, when we get out of this, I’ll get you a drink. I owe you one.” 

“You owe me about five, but you look so young they’d only let you buy one.”

Luke elbowed him. “That hurt, Han.” 

Han chuckled. “It’s just the truth, kid, ain’t nothin’ but the truth--”

He froze; well, he tried, and was pulled forward. 

Luke frowned. “What?” 

“There’s someone behind us,” Han muttered. “Someone’s there.” 

Luke looked over his shoulder, and checked the Force--nothing either way. “What are you talking about? It’s just--”

“Just my imagination? I can hear it, kid, it’s coming from--” 

“Just a minute.” Luke cleared his throat. “Vader?”

It chilled him to actually address the Dark Lord, but Vader responded quickly. “What is it?”

“Han...Han says there’s someone following us,” Luke said. 

There was silence--now Vader was searching in the Force--and then he spoke. “Solo is wrong. Kindly inform him that he is malfunctioning.” 

Han spluttered. 

“I’m not a droid,” he snapped, “and maybe I don’t have the Force, but I’ve pulled off enough heists to know when someone’s sneaking through--”

The vent above them moved. 

Luke had been looking in the wrong direction. 

“Run!” he shouted, but it was too late. Pirates dropped down from the vents, ran from the corners ahead; immediately, they were surrounded. 

And through them walked Hondo Ohnaka. 

“My, my, this _ is _unfortunate,” he said, strolling forward to stand in front of Luke. “I had believed that we could be friends, after all this; you are being released when your Rebel ship arrives. But, no! You could not sit for a few simple hours inside a cell, you had to escape…” He shook his head. “And now you will have to suffer the consequences.” 

Luke froze. What did _ that _mean?

Quickly, two pirates came forward, toward Luke; and only Luke. Not toward Han or Vader. What was Hondo planning? 

They lifted Luke’s arms, and the cuffs were unlocked; the cord around his waist dropped. The Force came rushing back, in full strength; but in a moment, Luke was surrounded, multiple arms around him, holding him in place. 

“Pirate,” Vader snarled, taking several echoing steps toward Hondo, “whatever you are planning, it will not succeed.” 

“Oh, but I think it will.” Hondo stroked his chin thoughtfully, then made a gesture toward two other pirates. “Take the Rebel and the particularly impatient Sith Lord back to their cell.”

“What about Skywalker?” Vader demanded, and--and was that actual worry in his voice? 

“Yeah!” Han shouted, and, well. At least those two were in agreement about something for once. “What about Luke? Where are you taking him?” 

“You will have to wait and see,” Hondo teased them, waving a finger in front of Han’s face. “It’s a surprise. Surprises are fun, aren’t they? You’ll be taken back to your cell, wondering what I have planned for you, and then...surprise!” He waved his hands dramatically in the air. “Then you’ll know. Or, I should say...he will.” He tapped Vader on the shoulder; Vader spun on him, and Hondo quickly danced several dozen paces away. “No, I’m deciding now. You’ll both know.” He patted one of the pirates on the back. “Take them away.” 

“Ohnaka!” Vader roared, sounding furious beyond belief. “OHNAKA!” 

But before Luke could even think about what that meant, Hondo walked around to stand in front of him. 

“Stop it, you--you sleemo,” Luke snarled, fighting against the hold the pirates had on him. “Stop it! You won’t get away with this!” 

The hold on his arms tightened. 

“Oh,” Hondo said, “but I think I will. You see, Skywalker, I’m an honorable man. Truly! But I do not like being betrayed.” 

“This is betrayal to you?” Luke demanded, and then--why hadn’t he thought of it before?--he realized his hands were completely free. He wasn’t bound anymore by chains. 

He had complete access to the Force. 

“You are my prisoners,” Hondo said, seeming surprised. “You escaped. That is simply rude, Skywalker.” 

Luke clenched his fists. He wanted to get out, he wanted to get out--

The Force _ roared. _

And the pirates went flying. 

Luke stood for one second, stunned by his success; then, realizing what he’d done, he turned around and ran. Back toward the cell. He didn’t care about Vader, but he needed to save Han, needed to get him out of there--

Pain. 

Sudden pain _ jabbed _his back, a shock, dozens of shocks seizing up his body, rendering him motionless; against his will, Luke dropped to the floor. 

Footsteps reverberated through the floor, and then Hondo was standing over him. He was holding a...holding an electrostaff. 

“Ah, Skywalker,” he said sadly. “You should not have done that.” 

He jabbed the electrostaff into Luke’s chest. There was pain, absolute agony shooting through the Force...and then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. So I'm sorry there are actually four parts, I overplotted and...and it just happened. 
> 
> Fic be like that.


	7. A Jedi, A Smuggler, And A Sith Lord(Part Four)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han and Vader have to work together to get to Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the last part!

Upon being taken back to the cell, Han realized that he was in trouble. 

As if things hadn’t been bad _ enough _already, Luke had now been dragged off for...for some purpose, he had no idea what, but knowing these pirates, it couldn’t be anything good. And that meant that Han was now stuck in a cell with a Dark Lord of the Sith who probably would’ve killed him if he’d been able to stop pacing for two seconds. 

Fortunately, seeing as they were both still chained together, Vader hadn’t walked so far as to knock Han over. But he was sure it was coming. 

And that was the least of his worries. Any second now, he was a dead man. 

Oh, and then there was the minor issue of _ what in the seven hells _had happened to Luke. 

A sharp tug at his waist informed him that the pacing had become more intense. What was _ with _him? No matter what happened to Luke, Han was sure it wouldn’t affect Vader. He wanted him alive for his power, that’s what he’d said; why would he care if he got hurt a little? 

But maybe they were going to kill Luke. 

Well. That was a horrifying thought. 

Another tug, and Han decided that he had _ had it. _He had no idea what Vader was thinking, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to get anything done with all this pacing. He was definitely a dead man now, but he couldn’t help it; he had to say something. 

“Hey, uh, Your Lordship,” Han said, “I’m sorry to interrupt whatever important task you must have going on over there, but how is that gonna help Luke?” 

Han regretted himself immediately. Almost before he’d finished speaking, Vader stopped short and rounded on Han with a snarl that sounded almost animalistic. 

“It _ is _ helping him,” he hissed, stalking closer; quickly, Han backpedaled until he felt the wall behind him. “I do not expect _ you _to understand, Solo, but if you wish to keep your life--”

“Yeah.” Han swallowed. “Yeah, yeah, I understand, I won’t talk, _ zip, _nada.” He zipped a finger across his lips, shrugged, and remained silent. 

With a growl, Vader stalked away. 

And then he froze. 

“Okay,” Han said, immediately breaking his promise, “what’s wrong now?” 

Vader stiffened. 

_ That’s it, _ Han thought, _ I’m dead. I’m absolutely dead and I’m never going to get to say good-bye to Luke. Or the Princess. Maybe she’ll cry at my funeral, I’d give anything to see that-- _

But Vader didn’t even move. 

He stood there for several seconds, his hands clenched into fists, and Han held his breath; and then, the Dark Lord spun around. 

“It is Luke,” he snarled, and Han’s eyes widened at the, uh...very personal use of Luke’s given name. Vader was certainly acting weird about the kid; what was going on? “He is in pain. I can sense it.” 

“You can?” Han said incredulously, then--oh, duh, the Force. This was getting weirder and weirder. “Well, uh, well, is he in a lot of pain?” 

In response, Vader clenched his fists; the cell began to shake, and for one wild second, Han thought the door was going to crash down and they’d be free, but then the shaking stopped. 

“_ Yes, _ Solo,” Vader ground out, “he is in _ great _pain, but I…” He hesitated, and then his shoulders actually slumped. “My use of the Force is weakened by these infernal chains. We shall have to find a different way to--”

He stopped mid-sentence. 

“No,” he snarled. “NO!” 

Han had been through numerous scrapes, he’d been living on his own, he’d gambled with his life and escaped, and for the most part, nothing fazed him. But to see Vader so obviously...well, not distraught, there had to be a better word for what the Dark Lord was...feeling...but, well, yeah, distraught. To see Vader like that...when Han had only ever seen him react that way about Luke--

“What?” he demanded. “Hey! What is it?” 

“He...I cannot sense him.” Vader clenched a fist. “Either he is unconscious...or he is dead.” 

Han refused to believe the latter, and somehow, he guessed Vader did, too. 

_ But why? _Why the hell did Vader seem to care so much about whether Luke lived or died? He was just an object to him, right? 

Or was there something Han was missing? 

No time to think now, he decided. Luke was in trouble. He had to act now and think later. 

“Hey, Your Exaltedness, if there’s one thing I know about Luke, it’s that he doesn’t go down without a fight,” Han said. Was he really assuring _ Darth Vader? _No. No, he was reassuring himself. “You said your Force powers are muted or some shit, right?” 

“Your use of language,” Vader rumbled darkly, “leaves much to be desired.” 

Han did a double take. Had His Royal Chokeyness really just…

_ Oh, that’s a good name, I’m using that. _

“That’s beside the point,” Han snapped. “The kid’s gotta be unconscious! There’s no way he’d let a bunch of pirates knock him down. He’s survived way worse.” He smirked. “He’s survived you, for starters.” 

“That is IT,” Vader roared, taking a lunging step toward him, and quickly, Han raised his hands. 

_ Think, think, what can you say, what does he care about-- _

_ Who. _

“Luke, think about Luke,” Han gasped as he felt a pressure begin to close around his throat. “We have to find him first!” The pressure released immediately, but Han guessed he wasn’t in the clear yet. “Rescue Luke first, kill Han later. How’s that for a plan?” 

“It is the most ideal plan you have invented thus far,” Vader growled, stepping back. “I will enjoy finding Skywalker, and I will also enjoy feeling the life leave your worthless body.” 

“Well.” Han swallowed, fighting against the terror that raced through him. “Well. That’s...that’s good. Good motivation.” He got up and moved away from the wall, careful not to move anywhere near tall, dark and horrifying. “Now. Um. What are we gonna do?” 

Vader folded his arms. “I was about to ask you the same.” 

“Oh,” Han said lightly, and then he swallowed. Damn, this was getting worse all the time. “Okay. Well.” It was impossible to think with Vader staring at him, so he turned away to look outside the cell. 

There was a guard standing there. 

And beyond that, there was a plate with a knife on it. 

“You, uh…” An idea hit him. “You’re not Luke.” 

“Astute observation.” 

Han turned around to grin at Vader. “You don’t mind killing, do you?” 

  
  


The first thing Luke was aware of was that his feet weren’t touching the ground. And that would have been alarming enough, except for the fact that there was pain in his stomach, and his back, and his arms and shoulders. His eyes flew open. 

Two dozen pirates were staring at him. 

“What the--” Luke tried to move, to stop whatever was pulling at his shoulders, but his arms seemed stuck somewhere; he couldn’t move them. His legs were not restrained, but they were suspended several feet off the ground, and there was no point in moving them, either. Looking up, he realized that his hands were being held shoulder length apart and restrained by some kind of cuffs; and extending from the cuffs was a kind of...blue light. 

No, not blue light, he realized. Electricity. 

_ I have a bad feeling about this. _

All the same, he glared at Hondo, who of course was to blame for all this. Who else could it be? 

“Hondo!” he shouted, wishing he could cross his arms. “Let me out!” 

Hondo laughed, as if amused to see Luke strung up like this. “Oh, I will, Skywalker, I will...but I need to have my fun, first.”

“Fun,” Luke spat in his face. “You call this fun?”

“No, actually, I don’t. Fun is just a phrase. I call this…” Hondo spread his arms. “Good business.”

“Oh, yeah.” Luke rolled his eyes. “That’s so much better.”

Hondo reached up to grab Luke’s chin, and Luke realized he was _ really sick _of people touching him like that. 

“I’ve said it before, but I like you, Skywalker,” Hondo said. “You have a wonderful sense of humor! You remind me of someone I used to--”

“Yeah, someone you used to know,” Luke said, yanking his head out of the pirate’s grasp. “You knew my father, you said that already.” 

“No, no.” Hondo waved a finger. “I _ know _your father.” 

Luke’s mind blanked. 

“Um,” he said. “What?” 

The pirates laughed. Luke’s anger burned. 

“That is what I said, young Jedi, isn’t it?” Hondo took a swaggering step toward the rest of the pirates. “I know your father.” 

“Okay.” Luke laughed incredulously. “You’re not just cruel, you’re insane. My father’s dead!” 

“Oh, I don’t think he is,” Hondo continued, and Luke could tell he was enjoying this _ far _ too much. “Your father is not dead, Skywalker. He is…” He lifted his arms, and for a second, Luke thought he was actually going to tell him _ where _his father was. “Alive!” 

If Luke’s hands had been free, he would’ve clenched them into fists and used them to punch Hondo in the face. 

“Stop messing with me,” he snapped. “Either tell me where my father is, or shut up!” 

“I’ll do better than that, Skywalker.” Hondo grinned. “I’ll bring him to you.” He reached up to tap Luke’s cheek. “And I’ll get an even greater reward!” 

The pirates all shouted and raised their glasses. 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.” Finally it made sense, and Luke was not surprised. “A reward. Because ours wasn’t good enough for you.” 

“Oh, it is, Skywalker, it is. I would simply like a second reward.” 

Luke sighed. Sometimes, when he was talking to Hondo, he felt like he was talking to a more immoral Han. 

“Sure,” he said. “From the Empire, huh?” 

“Precisely!” Hondo gestured toward Luke, as if showing off a precious prize. “See, he is more intelligent than he looks.”

“First of all,” Luke said, realizing that the longer he talked, the longer he stayed alive, “I don’t know whether that’s an insult or a compliment--”

“It’s a compliment, Skywalker! And if you suggest otherwise, then _ I _will have to be insulted.” Hondo put a hand to his chest. “I am shocked that you would suggest otherwise. Shocked!” 

Luke rolled his eyes. 

“Oo-kay. Sure. And the other thing is…” He frowned. “How is this going to get the Empire to give you a greater reward? And _ how _does this connect to...to who my father is?” 

“You will see, Skywalker,” Hondo said gleefully, “you will see.” 

He waved one of his pirates forward. The pirate was holding...some sort of remote control switch. 

He had to keep talking. 

“You keep saying that,” Luke said wryly. “But I don’t think it means what you think it means, Hondo. What I’m starting to think is that you don’t really have access to a greater reward, and you’re _ bluffing _to get us to give you a bigger one.” He smirked. “Good luck with tha--AH!” 

The pirate had pressed a button, and immediately, electricity went coursing through the restraints holding Luke suspended in the air, burning a trail of pain down his arms and through the rest of his body. But once it had made it all the way through, it didn’t stop; it just kept repeating, the electric currents restarting and burning up his skin, over and over. 

There was something against the back of his mind, a touch, someone’s presence in the Force; but Luke couldn’t focus on it. He didn’t know what it was, only that the pain wouldn’t stop, and he wanted it to, and--

And then it stopped. 

Luke gasped for breath, his body shuddering as it recovered from the electric assault, and somehow he forced his eyes open to glare at Hondo. 

“You,” he got out, “are--”

But Hondo wasn’t even looking at him. He was speaking to one of the pirates. 

“Is he here yet?” Luke heard. 

What? Luke felt more confused than ever, and it wasn’t just from the agony that was making it difficult for him to even keep his eyes open. _ He, who? _

The pirate shook his head. 

“Ah. Well.” Hondo shook his head. “I expected it would take a little time, but...this is disappointing! I want him to come, and I do not want Skywalker to be too damaged.”

Luke’s eyes shot open. Suddenly he realized what was going on: Hondo was going to keep on doing this until whoever he wanted to show up...showed up. 

And what if they didn’t?

Would they just torture him like this...until he died? 

_ You have to get out, _ whispered a voice in his mind. _ You have to… _

“Well, it is only the second time.” Hondo gestured toward the pirate. “Go ahead.”

No, no no no--

Pain. 

Pain, just like before, tearing through his muscles, his bones, everything. _ Stop it, stop it, please stop it-- _

It didn’t stop. It only kept burning. 

Luke couldn’t help it. He screamed. 

  
  


The smuggler, for once in his life, it seemed, was onto something. Vader would summon the knife from the plate outside, use it to pick the lock, and when they escaped, he would kill the guard. 

That would feel good. 

He reached out, into the Force; it was difficult, not having the entirety of the Force in his grasp, but this small thing he could do. The knife came easily, hurtling through the air toward the cell--Vader actually remembered Dooku doing something similar--and slid it into the lock. 

The door hissed open. 

“Wow,” said Solo--by the Force, Vader wished he would _ shut up _. “Hey, that was actually--”

The Force _ screamed _with pain. 

Even with his limited grasp of it, Vader could sense it: the Force was _ flaring _with agony, doused in it; agony was all he could feel, but it was not coming from him, it was coming from--

Luke. 

Luke was in pain. 

_ His son _was in pain. 

“No,” he snarled, wishing he could be free of these chains, wishing he could kill Solo and everyone else but Luke, do anything that would _ stop the pain. _“Luke!” 

Solo spun toward him in alarm. 

Agony continued to scream, loud and potent...and then it stopped. 

But where it had been was muted pain, exhaustion...fear. And suddenly...suddenly Vader remembered, a time long ago, when the pirate had done the same to him--

He would do it again. 

“What’s wrong?” Solo demanded. “What’s wrong?” 

“Not now,” Vader snapped. He wished he was in this _ alone, _but if the smuggler was there, he could at least make use of him. “We must find--”

“Oy!” 

The guard--a different one, this time--ran toward them. 

“Hey!” The pirate pulled a blaster. “What are you doing outside your--”

Perhaps it was a good thing that Vader had sensed Luke in pain only moments before, because it meant that he had an ocean’s worth of fury to pour out on this unfortunate guard. He did not have full access to the Force; it did not matter. He was able to rip the blaster out of the Weequay’s hand, then stretch out and squeeze, just enough to make the pirate terrified for his life, before reaching out with one hand to slam him into the wall. 

“Stop…” croaked the pirate as he fell to the ground. “Stop--please--”

Vader was all too glad to hear him say that. He yanked the Weequay to his feet. 

“Then,” he rumbled, “_ stop _the torture of my--” No. No, he could not tell the smuggler. “Of Luke Skywalker.” 

“N...no,” the guard croaked. “Captain’s orders.” 

Vader snapped his neck. 

The pirate dropped to the ground. 

“Um…” Solo’s eyes were wide. “Um, wow. When I, uh...I didn’t mean torture him and then kill him, I meant like a quick, you know, one and done type thing, quick and painless--”

Vader spun on him, and Solo fell mercifully silent. 

“Smuggler,” Vader said, “there _ is _no ‘quick and painless’ with me.” 

“Oh, okay. Uh…” Solo was obviously trying, and failing, not to appear afraid. His fear was wonderful to behold; it helped to sate some of Vader’s own fear about Luke. “Good to know.” 

“Now.” Vader turned toward the corridors, the way to the front of the complex; that was where they would have to go, this time, in order to rescue Luke. “If you will refrain from speaking unless necessary, we must--” 

Agony, again, poured into the Force. 

It was terrible to feel it again; the first time had been bad enough, but when Luke was already in pain…

_ Help me, _ reached him faintly, and Vader stood up straighter; Luke was speaking to him, in the Force. He was probably unaware that he was doing it, but...he was speaking nonetheless, begging for help. _ Help me! _

And still the agony did not stop; the Force was filled with it. Vader had never felt pain such as this; well, he _ had, _but then he had only felt pain that was his. This was his son’s pain, and that made it all the worse. 

The pain continued, and then--then, in the distance, someone screamed. 

“That’s him!” Solo shouted. “That’s the kid!” 

“It is.” Vader began walking, very quickly, toward the front of the complex; immediately the smuggler followed him. “Hurry!” 

He had just found his only son. He would _ not _lose him to the worst, the most ridiculous, the most utterly overdramatic pirate in the galaxy. 

  
  


“So, Your Lordliness,” Han panted as they--or, at least, he--half-jogged through the winding corridors of Hondo Ohnaka’s complex. “So, got anything to tell me?” 

“About _ what? _” Vader snarled. Han was really pressing his luck here, but he hadn’t been killed yet; he’d come up with an ingenious plan to get them out, after all. 

“About, uh--” Phrasing was everything. If he said it right, he’d get an answer out of Vader; a short answer, a grouchy one, and one that hardly explained anything, but he’d get one. If he phrased it wrong, he’d die. Simple as that. “About Luke.”

“I have nothing to tell you, smuggler.” The screaming had stopped, but Vader was still incredibly on edge, and Han still _ didn’t get it. _

“Well, I mean, pardon me, but I can’t help bein’ a little _ confused _here, Lord Vader. You tried to kill the kid, over Yavin! You killed his dad, and the old man, and now you’ve said you only want him for his power, so what’s it to you if he gets hurt?” 

This time, Vader actually stopped. 

Slowly, very, very slowly, he turned around. 

Han swallowed. He was dead. _ Damn phrasing, _he hadn’t done it right. 

“I do not need to tell you my personal motivations,” Vader said savagely, his mask right in Han’s face, and _ whoa, _ that was terrifying, it was like looking at a cross between a skull and a giant insect(and Han had definitely run into the latter a few times). “I do not need to tell you my plans. I do not need to tell you _ anything, _ Solo, because more than anything, you are a _ liability! _” 

Sharply, he turned around and resumed walking. 

Han smirked. Whether Vader realized it or not, he _ had _told him something. Not everyone would have understood all those threats, but Han had been threatened enough times to pick out what was important and what wasn’t. 

And what was important here was that Vader’s reasons for saving Luke were really, _ really _personal. 

Before he could think further, the screaming started again. 

“Faster,” Vader hissed, and Han was, unfortunately, yanked forward; but he didn’t mind for once, because they had to get to the kid. He’d gotten them distracted again--it was his fault, and they _ had _to get to Luke. “We must go faster!”

But then, just as soon as it had started, the screaming stopped. Han realized he didn’t ever want to hear that again; as much as he hated to admit it, he’d never been able to leave the Rebels because of Luke. And the Princess, but...that was entirely different. Luke was a cocky, courageous hotshot who somehow managed to survive everything he threw himself into; but despite all that, he was just a nineteen-year-old kid. A kid who needed protecting. 

He was like the younger brother Han had never had. 

And he never, _ never _wanted to hear him scream like that again. 

Just his luck. Right as he had the thought, there were more screams. 

And this time, they were close enough that Han could hear the crackling of electricity along with it. 

_ Come on, kid, _ he thought desperately. _ You can do it. Just hold on. _

  
  


Another break. 

They’d hit the button for the fourth time, and that had been the longest; Luke hadn’t thought that was ever going to end. He’d tried not to scream this time, and for the most part he’d succeeded; but as the torture continued, ragged shouts were ripped from his throat, and then he hadn’t even thought about screaming, all he knew was that he was in pain and he wanted it to stop. 

And then it did. 

As Luke slipped in and out of darkness, he was aware that Hondo was murmuring to someone, one of the pirates; that’s important, his mind told him. Listen. 

With a gigantic effort, he forced himself back to full consciousness. 

“...where he could be,” Hondo was saying. “He should have arrived! Tell me, where are all the guards?”

“Oh, uh, one of ‘em’s missing,” piped up one pirate. “We heard some shouts comin’ from that wing of the complex. We think he’s dead.” 

Hondo threw his hands in the air. 

“Boys, boys,” he said, shaking his head. “You see, _ this _is what I need to know! This is what I need you to tell me! Do you know what that means? It means that my plan is working!” 

Luke was too confused, and it might have been the fact that he’d been shocked with electricity four times in a row; but also, nothing made sense. He’d gathered that Hondo wanted his...father...to come for him. But why would his father be here? 

And why was his father alive at all?

Was Hondo bluffing? 

Nothing made sense. 

Footsteps echoed, and Luke opened his eyes to see Hondo looking at him. He wanted to say something, to snap at him; but he didn’t have the energy. He let his eyes slide closed. 

“We’ll give Skywalker a rest,” Hondo said, strolling back toward the pirates. “Perhaps we don’t need to do any more, eh?” 

Hope soared. They were done after all! He wouldn’t be shocked any more, there wouldn’t be any more pain...Luke allowed himself to relax. Whoever it was, they were coming for him, Hondo wasn’t going to torture him any longer, and he was going to be free…

A soft thump; Luke guessed Hondo had sat down. 

“And now we wait,” said the pirate, “for the greatest revelation that any of you have witnessed in--Kiro, what are you doing?” 

Luke opened his eyes. 

One of the younger pirates--Kiro--was grabbing the switch off the long table. The switch that...that controlled the electricity. 

It was hard to focus, but Luke could tell that Kiro was adjusting something...a lever on the switch…

“Kiro! You can’t turn it up! We had it on an extremely low charge, and now--now--” Hondo was scrambling toward him. “What are you _ doing? _” 

“You took too long getting us a reward, Hondo,” sneered the pirate. “I’m in the pay of the Empire now, and you wouldn’t believe what they’ve offered me to see the destroyer of the Death Star..._ dead. _” He grinned, and Luke had a horrible premonition of what was going to happen. “I was hoping you’d have done it by now, but turns out you’ve got a soft spot for the little brat.” 

“Kiro!” Hondo shouted. “You cannot do that! I forbid it. He will be furious!” 

“‘Course he will. But by that time,” Kiro said, stepping away from the other pirates, “I’ll be long gone.” He jerked a thumb at Luke. “And so will he...in a different way.” 

The pirate was going to kill him. 

He had to do something. 

“Stop!” Luke shouted, and through the pain, through the exhaustion, he managed at last to touch the Force. 

And then agony worse than anything he’d felt in his entire life scorched through him, and he screamed. 

  
  


They were almost there; they’d almost reached his son. Vader knew it. He could sense him now, very close to them--and he also knew by the layout that they were close. 

And, fortunately, there had been no more pain. 

“He hasn’t screamed in the last few minutes,” Solo said. “Do--do you think--”

“He is not _ dead, _” Vader snarled, fury and fear filling him at the very idea; but he remembered then that Solo had no knowledge of the Force, and therefore could not sense Luke. “He is still alive; his pain is receding. The torment has stopped.” 

“Torment? Whoa, wait, they’re _ torturing _him?” 

“I would have assumed,” said Vader, rounding a corner, “that your expertise where pirates are concerned would have outweighed your natural stupidity, but it appears that that is not the case.” 

The smuggler spluttered. It was greatly satisfying to know that Vader had at last succeeded in getting to _ him. _

“Well, in case you forgot, I don’t have the Force, Your Royal Chokeyness.” 

Vader almost stopped. Had he really--had he--had that smuggler _ just _ had the _ audacity _ to--

He was stopped from strangling him on the spot only by the now-familiar agony that drenched the Force. Luke. Once again, the insidious pirate had started torturing him again. 

But this time, it was worse. 

This time, it was much, _ much worse. _

And, several turns away, his son’s screams were louder and more pained than Vader had heard them thus far. 

“The bonds,” Solo gasped as Vader broke into a run. “The cuffs, we need to find a way to cut them!” 

“Shut up,” Vader snapped. There was no time. His son was being killed, Luke was being killed, his only son--_ his boy _\--

“We’ll get him free faster if we’re not chained together like this!” Solo shouted at him. “And if _ you _can access that Force thing!” 

For once, it hit Vader that Solo was right. 

“Well,” he said, not stopping for a moment, “do you have an idea?”

“Yeah,” said Solo, “I think I do.” 

  
  


He was dying. He was going to die. 

There was no other thought in Luke Skywalker’s mind; he was going to die, Han had been right, he was never going to live to see his twentieth birthday--

There were other sounds there. There was shouting--from Hondo, and the other pirates--were they fighting over the switch? He hoped Hondo would win. The leader of the pirates, at least, didn’t seem to want him dead. 

He could try to break free. He could try to break out--

But how? How could he, when there was _ so much pain? _

Luke couldn’t see; whether that was because his eyes were closed, or because he was no longer able to see, he didn’t know. Everything was leaving him--

And his father hadn’t come to save him. 

Of course not. Hondo had been bluffing. His father was dead, and Luke was going to see him soon. 

He hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed. 

_ Sorry, Father, _ Luke thought dimly, toward the father he’d never known; agony, and terror, and grief clouded his mind--not his--but he couldn’t think about it. _ I should’ve fought, like you did...I’m not as strong as you. I’m sorry. _

Fury. 

“STOP!” roared a voice, and Luke thought that, somewhere, he recognized that voice. It was loud, and resonant, and terrifying, and…

Protective? 

Protective of him?

Nothing made sense. 

Because it was Darth Vader who’d just entered the room. 

  
  


Vader had never known such absolute fear. 

He’d felt rage, more rage than should have existed; he’d felt grief, more than enough grief to swallow up entire planets. 

But nothing compared to the sight of Luke, the sight of _ his son, _suspended in the air, electricity coursing through him--electricity worse than the kind that was leveled at him whenever he failed, whenever his master was displeased. 

Everything was worse, because it was his son. 

_ Father...I’m sorry… _

The words had stung him like nothing else; but that had been the last thing he’d heard from him. 

He wasn’t screaming any longer. His eyes were closed, his body jerking as the electricity coursed through him; he might as well have been dead. 

“STOP!” Vader roared, at the pirates fighting over something, at the torture, _ all of it-- _and then, a presence reached toward him. A presence acknowledged him.

Luke. 

Luke was not dead. 

“No!” shouted one of the pirates, and Vader was surprised to see a younger pirate--not Hondo--break free of the others, holding a remote switch. “No, you--you cannot be here!” 

This was the one. 

“But I am,” Vader rumbled darkly. “Stop the torture, and perhaps I’ll kill you slowly.” 

Then the pirate laughed. 

“How can you?” he demanded, and Vader wished he’d shut up, because all the while _ Luke was dying-- _“How could you threaten me with anything? You’re still chained! You will never be free!” 

And at those words, Vader wished he could kill that pirate for the rest of his life. 

But something else had to happen first. 

“Surprise!” yelled Solo. Vader was large enough that he’d been able to completely hide the smuggler from view; so when he took a running leap and practically flew over Vader’s head--with some assistance from the Force--none of the pirates were expecting it. 

In this way, Solo was able to land on a pirate close enough that it didn’t yank at the cords connecting them, toppling the pirate and getting in a position to snag the key card. 

“I’ll be needing this, you son of a bitch,” Solo said with a grin, and Vader would have slapped him if the smuggler hadn’t rolled to his feet and swiped the card through his cuffs. 

The cord was loosed. The cuffs fell, and the Force rushed back in full strength.

“Run!” shouted the pirates. “Run!” 

“Take care of them,” Vader ordered the smuggler, yanking the switch into his hand. “Keep them from escaping. But leave Ohnaka and the instigator to me.” 

“You got it,” said Solo, and with a delighted yell, he leaped forward, grabbed a blaster from one of the pirates, and started blasting. 

Vader wanted to kill them; he wished he could drain the lifeblood from their bodies, but there were more...pressing matters at hand. The control switch was useless, and the pirate was halfway across the room; instead, Vader reached toward the supports holding Luke. 

As he did, Luke’s consciousness wavered. 

“NO!” Vader roared, pouring every ounce of his fear and anger into the Force; for once in his life, he would save someone from dying. Luke would _ not die. _As he had the thought, the supports trembled; the earth shook; the electricity went out, and the torture stopped. 

Luke dropped to the floor, lifeless, and lay there in a heap. 

He _ looked _dead. 

He was not--Vader could still feel his presence in the Force--but they didn’t have much time. 

Still, there was one thing left to be done. 

The pirate--the one causing the torture--was halfway out the door; that did not matter. Vader stretched out a hand, and the pirate was yanked toward him. Vader seized his neck with one hand. 

“I--I don’t--” The pirate kicked out, but it was useless, and only encouraged Vader to squeeze tighter. “I’m with the--the Empire! I did this for you!” 

“You did not do it for me,” Vader said, “because the boy is my _ son._”

The pirate’s eyes blew wide, and Vader took that opportunity to crush his windpipe. The feeling of his life leaving him, with one last desperate gasp, was thrilling. 

As Vader let him drop, he looked toward Solo. 

The rest of the pirates were on their knees; two were dead, and none had escaped. As much as he hated Solo, Vader had to admit that he had done his job well. 

And now there was Luke. 

Vader crossed the room quickly, to where Luke lay crumpled on the floor, and dropped to his knees. Once again, the action sent him pain; and once again, he did not care. The presence in the Force was nowhere to be seen. Desperate, hoping with every worthless hope in his heart that Luke was still alive, he took the boy into his arms. 

He looked dead; he _ felt _dead. He didn’t so much as twitch as Vader ran hands over his arms, his torso, searching for a pulse; his head rolled back. 

“Luke,” he demanded. “Luke! Answer me!” 

He searched into the Force. There was nothing there. 

“No.” He did not believe it, he _ would not _ believe it. “No. No, you _ will not _die. Luke!” 

Still there was nothing. 

It was not true. It would not be true. Fear racing through him, Vader searched into the Force, one last time, searching for the boy’s bright presence, the presence that had been in his life for so short a time. 

_ Luke, _ he sent into the darkness. _ Come back to me. Come back to your father. _

A flicker. The tiniest of flickers, but it was there all the same, and Vader leaped on it. 

_ Come back, my son, _ he sent again, desperate, hoping. _ I am here. You are safe. _

The presence moved toward him. 

_ Yes. Yes, Luke, **come back. **_

Luke did not respond, not in words; but his presence moved toward Vader’s, and in life, in the world outside the Force, his chest began to rise and fall. 

He was here. 

He was alive. 

“Luke.” Vader could not contain what he was feeling, the emotions he hadn’t felt in years; he bent over Luke, grasped his son in his arms, and held him close; reveled in the small face, calm in sleep, that lay against his chest; reveled in the beating of his son’s heart under his hands. “My _ son. _”

“Wait, _what did you just say?_”

Vader froze. 

_ The smuggler. _

Quickly, he lowered Luke to the ground and turned around. “What?”

Maybe he could convince Solo that he’d said nothing. 

“Um.” Solo blinked several times, most likely trying to process what he’d just heard. “You said something, uh…”

“I said nothing. You are distracting me.” 

“You _ said _ something, Your Lordship, and you can’t play dumb with me.” Solo crossed his arms. “Either I’m a Hutt, or you just called the kid your _ son._”

What could he say? What could he _ possibly say? _

“I did not,” Vader said, but it was useless. 

“He’s your kid, I…” Solo ran both hands through his hair. “Whoa. Now, I’ve heard a lotta shockers over the three decades I’ve been around, but this? The kid, Mister Sunshine Golden Hair Surprise, is _ your kid?_”

“Solo,” Vader snarled, but he could not stop him. 

“Wow!” Solo did a little dance. “Oh, wait til I tell him, he’s gonna be shocked. I can’t wait to see the look on his face, and--oh, shit, it all makes _ sense now-- _”

“LANGUAGE.” 

“And boy, if that ain’t the biggest dad move I’ve ever seen!” Was...was he _ giggling? _ “‘Language.’ And all those warnings you gave the kid, all those times--that really was you bullshitting the parenting game, wasn’t it? Boy, I need to give you a book on being a dad, don't I, and here I thought _ my _old man was bad. But you? Whew!” 

Vader stood up. “SOLO!” 

The smuggler’s grin left him. 

“If you do not tell the galaxy what you have learned,” Vader threatened in a voice so low no one else could have heard, “I will spare your life. I will let you go, and I will never attempt to find you again. But if you DO--”

He broke away, and tilted his helmet, just slightly, to where the young pirate’s body was lying.

The color drained from Solo’s face. 

“Sure, uh…” He blinked and swallowed several times. “Yes, sir.” 

Vader sighed. He supposed that would have to do. 

“Well, Skywalker!” came a voice from behind him. “It is good to see you again.” 

Vader whirled on Hondo.

“_You,_” he hissed. “I should have known. So YOU are the reason he was tortured!” 

“I did not try to kill him!” Hondo said, raising his hands in the air. “I would never have killed him, Skywalker. I like him, after all.” 

“Then,” Vader demanded, “_why--_” 

“Because of you, Skywalker!” Hondo put a hand on his chin, as if thinking. “Hm. There are _ two _Skywalkers now, so should I call him Junior? No! He is not awake to hear it. Anyway. I did not suppose it was you, but then...you and the boy are very similar, in many ways! And then I remembered what my mother used to say.” 

“For the sake of my sanity,” Vader growled, “spare me.” 

“As my mother used to say,” Hondo went on, “if there are two people who cannot stand the sight of one another, and they are not in love, then they must be related!” 

“Hey, that’s pretty wise,” Solo piped up. “You know, there’s this girl, and she insults me every time she sees me, so maybe…” He grinned. 

“Do _not _encourage him, Solo," Vader snapped. They were wasting time; the only reason he didn't pick Luke up and leave instantly was because he could sense that his son would survive...but that could quickly change. 

“So, anyway,” Hondo went on, “once I had the idea, I thought...why not test it? The boy is a Skywalker, and he will escape; so then, if you all escaped...it must be true. But I knew I could never get you to admit it! Not in words, anyway. But if I were to harm him--” He cast a glance toward Luke’s unconscious form. “Oh, my. He looks dead.” 

“He is NOT.” Vader’s chest tightened at the reminder. “Finish the story, _ pirate._” 

“If I were to harm him, and if you were the Anakin Skywalker _ I _once knew, you would find a way to save him.” 

“I hate to disappoint you,” Vader said, “but I am not the Anakin Skywalker you once knew.” 

In response, Hondo burst out laughing. 

“What,” Vader demanded, “is. So. _ Funny. _” 

“You--you think--” Hondo broke off for a last laugh. “You really think you’re not the man you used to be simply because you took a different name?”

“It is not simply because I took a different name. It is also because--”

“You lose your temper very easily,” Hondo began, and Vader had to concede that one. “You are angry. You are fond of saying melodramatic things. You take gambles. Threatening others comes naturally to you. You will go to _ any _length to save people you care about. When you cannot find an argument, you either lose your tongue or start killing--shall I go on?” 

“That is _ enough, _ ” Vader snarled. “I must get the boy back to my ship, and _ you _are going to die.” 

“What? Skywalker!” Hondo protested, which only made Vader angrier. “But that is simply bad business!” 

“And why is _ that? _”

“The Rebels promised me a reward! I will not be getting it anyway, and if I die, then that is even worse for business.” Hondo raised his hands in the air a second time. “Please, I beg you, please--don’t kill me! I swear that I will never tell anyone about your relationship with Skywalker Junior.” 

Vader could have done it. It would have been so easy to reach out, to kill the pirate; none of the excuses would stop him. 

But all he wanted was to get Luke to safety. Anything else wasted time. 

“I will not kill you,” he said in a low voice, “and the loss of your men that will follow immediately, when they realize they are in a worse situation, will be your reward. But rest assured that if you say a word about me, if you tell anyone who I am, I will know, _ Ohnaka. _And no place in the galaxy will be safe from me.” 

For exactly three seconds, there was silence. 

“Well!” Hondo said at last. “What did I tell you, smuggler? I don’t know why I doubted for a moment that he was my old friend. That threat may have been delivered...ah, differently, but in the end, he’s the Skywalker I remember.” Then, from his pocket, he drew a lightsaber. “I believe this is yours.” 

“It is,” Vader said, snatching it back. "Although, pirate, I might reconsider my offer to spare you simply because you stole this from me." 

“Then...this is where I make my exit!” With a wave of farewell, Hondo swaggered away, perhaps having realized that Vader would kill him anyway if he stayed a moment longer. 

“I like you, Hondo,” Solo called after the Weequay’s retreating back. “We should get drinks sometime.”

“I find that you will be doing just that,” Vader said, bending down to lift Luke into his arms; the boy still had a pulse, but it was growing weaker. They had wasted valuable time. “I hope I never see you again.” 

“Wait, what?” Solo crossed his arms. “What, I’m just supposed to leave the kid with you?” 

“Yes,” Vader said, his irritation growing once more; he hadn’t killed the pirate, but perhaps he could kill the smuggler after all. “He is my son, and you are far beneath what I would consider to be a good friend for him.” 

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll admit that. But if I am, then you’re _ way _beneath what a good father should be.” 

Solo paled instantly, as if expecting Vader to kill him then and there; but for once, the Sith Lord could not find it in him to be angry. Solo was right, after all. Luke did not deserve him.

“All the same,” he said. “I am taking him, and you will never see him again. Good riddance.” 

And then, without another word, he began walking toward the door. 

“Oh, but Lord Vader.” 

There was _ far _too much mischief in that voice for his liking. Slowly, Vader turned around. The smuggler was grinning. 

“See, I know something about the two of you,” he said knowingly, “and I bet you’d just _ hate _for anyone else to find out.” He smirked. 

For a moment, Vader didn’t know _ what _to do. 

He wanted to kill him. He wanted to roar at him. He wanted to torment him until he took back everything he’d just said, he wanted to dive into his mind and drive the knowledge of what he’d learned out of his head...but if he did that, then there would be _ no _chance of connecting with Luke. 

And that would be the worst of all. 

Of all the pettiest--Vader clenched his fists. 

“Fine,” he ground out. “You are coming with me.” 

Solo did a victory dance. 

“And I will likely kill you within the first ten minutes,” he muttered under his breath, but Solo didn’t seem to hear. He followed along behind Darth Vader, the happiest man in the world. 

_ What have I done to myself? _

But deep down, Vader realized he didn’t really care about that...because in his arms, he held the greatest treasure in the galaxy. 

  
  


When he woke up, there wasn’t pain. 

That was a pleasant surprise. 

There was also a soft bed, and pillows, and the utmost amount of comfort he had ever experienced. For a second, Luke was content to simply lay there and soak it all in. 

“Hey ya, kid.” 

Luke’s eyes snapped open. 

Han was sitting at his right. 

“Han,” he croaked, and that _ hurt. _ What had happened to his voice? It felt like hell. _ He _felt like hell…

The pirates. 

“What--” His eyes widened. “Han, what happened? Where are the pirates? How did--” 

He tried to sit up, only for Han to push him back down. 

“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “Whoa. Slow down there, Junior.” He chuckled to himself, as if at an inside joke. “We got away. You’re fine; we dunked you in bacta for a day, but you’re fine.” 

“Bacta.” Luke wrinkled his nose. “Oh, so that’s why everything tastes awful.” 

“Yep.” Han sighed. “And, you know, there’s, uh...probably something you should know.” 

Luke frowned. “What?” 

“Uh, well, we’re on Vader’s ship, kid--”

Vader’s ship. Panic raced through him. 

“The _ Devastator? _” His voice came out an octave higher than usual. “Wait, what? But--but how--why did--”

“Well, kid, that’s the thing.” Han laughed. “He saved your life.” 

“He…” Luke couldn’t believe that. “He did?” 

But that’s right; Vader wanted to use him. That’s why. 

And now he was stuck with him. Vader had clearly taken Han back there to use against Luke, that was it...and Luke would have to start his training. It was all over. 

Luke hung his head so that Han wouldn't see his tears. 

“Yeah,” Han rattled on, “I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? He doesn’t set a great example for anyone else, but being your dad and all--” 

Luke’s world stopped. Dead. He heard nothing else. 

What had Han said? His...his father. 

How could that be possible? 

“Solo,” rumbled a voice from the doorway, and Luke was ripped out of his spiraling thoughts to face...Vader. He stared at him. “You promised that you would allow _ me _to tell him.” 

The temperature dropped. 

Han’s mouth fell open, as if he’d just remembered something; he glanced between Luke and Vader. 

“Oh,” he said slowly. “Oh, shit.” 

Luke couldn’t believe it. Was he dreaming? 

“_Language, _Solo.” 

Now he definitely couldn’t believe it. Vader stepped inside, came close to Luke; and, despite everything, despite everything Luke knew, he placed a hand on Luke’s forehead. 

“My son,” he said. “How are you feeling?” 

This was too much. This was _ way _too much. Luke glanced at Han, who was grinning; then back at Vader, who he could sense was staring at him expectantly. 

His father. 

“Um. Excuse me. Could you just, uh, could somebody please--I mean--it can’t--” Luke blinked, stared at nothing, shook his head, and looked at Han. “_What?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles*  
I COULD have ended it with a more serious conversation but this thing was getting long, and it felt more fitting to the whole story to end on a laugh.  
I need to get back to my other works, but dang! This was fun to write. Hondo cracks me up, and I've always wanted to write a story where Han and Vader have to work together.  
Okay. Back to straight one-shots next time.


	8. Ghosts Of Umbara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to angsty one-shots.  
Three weeks after Bespin, Luke and Leia are scouting out potential locations for a base on the shadowy world of Umbara...but they are not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, spoilers for the dreaded Umbara arc.

_ “There is no escape.” _

_ Darkness looms over him; quickly, he scrabbles backward, but there is nowhere to go. There is no light--only the dark. _

_ “It is the only way.” _

_ “No!” he screams, but he can’t get away--from the dark, from the truth, from either. _

_ Vader is right. There is no escape. _

_ But that doesn’t mean he can’t keep trying to crawl backward, to find the light--he can feel Leia there-- _

_ He is stopped from finding her as the darkness curls around his right wrist, burning, scything through flesh and bone; yet, at the same time, holding him immobile. _

_ There is no escape. _

_ His gaze is forced up, slowly, to meet the terrifying mask of--of his-- _

_ “I am your father.” _

Luke’s eyes flew open, and he sat forward, gasping. All was dark...he was alone…Vader was here, he’d come for him, he could sense him...but Luke couldn’t _ see anything-- _

“Luke!” 

Luke spun, shaking, and drew his blaster. “Who’s there? Answer me!” 

“What do you mean? It’s _ me! _ ” The darkness cleared somewhat, and Luke realized that it was Leia, concern writ large on her face; and suddenly, everything came rushing back. They were on the _ Falcon, _en route to the planet Umbara to scout out a location for a base. 

Horror flashed through him, and in a moment he’d thrown away the blaster.

“Luke,” Leia called after him as he turned away. “Luke! Listen to me!” 

She grabbed his prosthetic hand; phantom pain flashed up his arm, but he turned back anyway. 

“Leia, I’m so sorry,” he said immediately, hoping she wasn’t afraid of him; he’d reached for the blaster in a moment, he was just like Vader-- 

“Don’t be,” she said firmly. “Do _ not. _It’s not your fault at all.” Her expression softened somewhat. “You...had another nightmare, didn’t you?” 

He nodded, lowering his head so she wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. 

Leia swore under her breath. “I told them you weren’t ready! They should’ve just sent Lando with me, it hasn’t even been a month yet, but--”

This time it was Luke’s turn to reassure her. 

“No,” he said quickly, “don’t worry about it, Leia. It’s not under your control, and besides…” He clenched his jaw. “I needed to get out of there. I’ve been alone with the memories for three weeks.” 

Leia sighed. “All right. If...that’s how you feel, all right.” She stared at him with fire in her eyes. “But if something’s wrong, if you feel anything wrong in the Force at all, if you start having problems, you _ let me know. _All right?” 

Luke hesitated. He didn’t want her to know he was having any flashbacks in the first place; and he definitely didn’t want to let anything slip. 

If she knew what he knew...she’d hate him. 

_ If it’s true... _ if _ it’s true. It can’t be true. _

“All right?” Leia said again, more fiercely. 

“All right,” Luke said, snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. “I’ll let you know.” 

Leia gave him a small smile. “Good. Thank you for that.” She turned to face the viewport. “Then, let’s get going.” 

“Get going?” Luke frowned, staring out at what he assumed was the black void of space; he still couldn’t see much of anything. “We’re not there yet, are we? It’s still dark.”

Abruptly, there was a flash of light outside the ship, illuminating what looked like a...a road. 

Luke blinked. What was going on?

“We’ve arrived,” announced the pilot from the cockpit. “Would you like me to wait here?” 

“No, thank you,” Leia said, and at the words _ we’re here _Luke looked back at the viewport. This was crazy, but...it looked like they were on Umbara. “I think we’re going to be a while. I’ll call you when we’re ready for pick-up.” Leia gestured at Luke. “Come on.” 

Luke frowned. “Is it night here?” 

“It’s always night here,” Leia said, and together, they stepped out of the transport ship and onto the shadowy world of Umbara. 

  
  


Umbara was, by far, the most _ unsettling _planet Luke had ever seen. 

Everything was shadow. Well, not, strictly speaking, _ everything; _the plants and trees on the side of the road frequently lit up with red lights, bright flashes that illuminated the road ahead...but other than that, there was nothing. There was only darkness, only shadow; he could barely see anything in front of him. 

_ Like Bespin, _whispered something in his mind, and suddenly he was spinning around, searching the trees and the shadows around them...waiting for the monster in black to jump out at him...

And the red flashes from the trees weren't helping...

Nothing. 

But that didn’t make him feel less uneasy. 

“Leia,” he said quietly. “Are you sure we want this place as a base?”

Immediately Leia was turning to look at him. “Luke, I said, if you’re having a problem--the pilot has barely left the atmosphere, we can call him back--”

“It’s not that,” Luke said, shaking her off. “It’s…” He looked uncomfortably at the dark road ahead. “No one’s going to be able to find their way around here. It’s going to be like Hoth; we had no idea the conditions outside were so terrible when we landed.” 

“That’s the desert talking,” Leia teased him. “Sorry. But Hoth was one thing; this is another, and the thing is…” She sighed. “Do you realize how hard it’s going to be for the Empire to blow us out of our base?”

“If we set it up.” 

“_ If _we set it up.” The lights flashed, and her slight smile was illuminated by a red glow. “That’s why it’s so important.”

Luke sighed heavily. He could see the logic there. He could, he really could...but there was still a feeling, deep within him, that there was _ danger _here. That someone else was here, with him. 

But that was just Bespin. He was only afraid because of the memories...nothing more.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

Leia squeezed his hand; his left hand, this time, and he was grateful. “Let’s head for the Capital.” 

  
  


The feeling did not come immediately. But as they walked through the darkness of Umbara, through the mists and shadows, and no one came to meet them, Luke began to have the distinct sense that they were being followed. It wasn’t his PTSD, it wasn’t the trauma--although there was plenty of that, too--but he knew it, as surely as he knew he was standing upright. 

_ Luke. _

Someone was with him...someone was following him. 

_ Luke. Come to me. _

Not Leia. Whoever was there didn’t care about Leia...only about Luke. 

All the same, Luke found himself drifting closer to Leia; he did not want anything to happen to her. 

_ I really wish I had my lightsaber. _

At the memory, his wrist burned; and it wasn’t just from the memory. The mists and shadows were beginning to curl around him, he realized with a gasp, coming to hover over him, to seize his wrist--

His heart racing, Luke walked faster, trying to get away from the shadows. 

But as he went forward, the shadows came leaping up just as fast. And beyond them, there was a sound...an inhale of breath, and then an exhale, like the wind…

In, out…

Over and over again…

_ That breathing. _

“Luke,” Leia said, coming to a stop. “Is something wrong?”

Luke looked over his shoulder; and then, he realized that the shadows were nowhere near him. Umbara was the same, unsettling sort of place it had been from the beginning, but the shadows hadn’t moved. 

_ Am I hallucinating? _

“No,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “No. Just my imagination.” 

Leia nodded, concern filling her brown eyes, and they continued.

“It’s so weird,” she whispered, as if someone was going to hear them; had she sensed it too? Maybe he wasn’t going crazy after all. “This planet hasn’t been a war zone ever since...well, the Clone Wars. You’d think the natives would be around, but…” She shivered. “I don’t see anyone.” 

Luke nodded slowly, realizing it was true; the place was almost dead, or else that’s what it seemed like. They hadn’t seen anyone since their arrival. 

“Do you think it’s a trap?” He couldn’t help whispering either. Even with no one around, he still felt as if they were being followed. 

Leia frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but…” Slowly, her hands clenched into fists. “If it is, I’ll never forgive myself.” She looked up at him. “If we go another five minutes without seeing anyone, we’re turning around.” 

Instant hope swept through him at her words, but she couldn’t know that. Luke shrugged, pretending he wasn’t immensely relieved. 

“All right,” he said. “If that’s what you want.” 

Leia arched an eyebrow, suggesting that he wasn’t really fooling her, but otherwise, she said nothing. Leia was a calming person to be around, Luke realized, especially on such a strange planet. She wasn’t going to make fun of him; any concern of hers would be only to make sure he was all right, and nothing more. 

Luke was glad she was here with him. 

He looked over his shoulder again, searching for the mists; but they seemed to be hanging back. They weren’t gathering around him, as he’d imagined them doing before. 

He really had been hallucinating that, or something like it. Luke shook his head. 

Out of nowhere, Leia cried out. 

“Leia!” Quickly, Luke faced forward again and ran to catch up with her; she was kneeling on the road. “What happened?”

“I...I tripped,” Leia said, looking more than a little embarrassed. “Guess I just got nervous,” she added with a shaky smile. 

“Glad I’m not the only one,” Luke said, helping her stand. 

Leia grinned back at him; and then something brushed his arm. 

Luke spun immediately, his fears returning--_ there is no escape _ \--as the mists lunged for him, just as before, a shadowy, _ armored _ arm reaching out…

_ Vader, _ whispered a voice in his mind. _ It’s Vader...he’s here… _

But the arm was nothing like Vader’s; it looked half-rotted, it had a distinct pattern to it, a combination, maybe, of several different colors. Half terrified and half curious, Luke followed the arm, noticed an armored chest connected to it--again, nothing like Vader’s--a chest that was stained with blood. Then, as he looked further, his eyes fell on...a face, a dead face, and glazed, bloodshot eyes staring into his. 

Luke lunged back, horrified...and only then did he notice that this ghost was not the only one. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds, of others, flitting in and out of visibility between the trees. 

And they seemed to be reaching out for him. 

“What?” Leia demanded. “What is it?”

“Don’t--” Luke glanced back at her, only for a moment; he didn’t know what would happen if he took his eyes off of these ghosts. “Don’t you see them?”

“Them?” Leia looked around wildly, but had no other reaction. “Um...no. Who’s them?”

“There are…” Luke swallowed thickly, stumbling back another step as yet another armor-clad hand reached for him. “There are ghosts, in the trees. Soldiers.” 

“Clones,” Leia said, as if she’d just realized something. 

Luke looked at her, surprised. “What?”

“They’re clones, probably,” Leia said, “and I bet it’s the Force that lets you see them.” 

“Clones.” Luke had never seen a clone in his life, much less...a ghost of one. “Oh, yeah. You said this was a huge war zone during the Clone Wars.” 

Leia nodded. “I knew someone who used to be a clone before...the Purges, and he told me that…” She scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably. “They were massacred on Umbara. One of their generals turned on them, and…tricked them into killing their own men.” 

“Their own men?” Luke looked back at the ghosts, still vanishing and reappearing from his line of sight; each of them was reaching out to him, as if in a desperate plea for help. “Who would do that?” 

_ Help me, _ echoed through the trees. It could have been the wind; but Luke knew with certainty that it was not. _ Help... _

Leia shook her head. “I don’t know.” She grabbed Luke’s hand suddenly, and the real, flesh and blood touch grounded him. “Hey, let’s get out of here. I’ll signal our pilot.” 

“Good idea,” Luke said. The clones were beginning to drift back, away from them, but he could still see them there. Just in case, he took a step backward, and then another, toward the trees; as far as he could tell, this was the only spot the clones weren’t. 

“I’m making the call,” Leia said. 

He was almost fully in the shadows now, but there was nothing for it. The clones were still reaching out to him. Leia’s words faded. 

_ Don’t come near me, please stay away… _

_ I can’t help you. I’m sorry. _

The ghosts vanished. Luke heaved a sigh of relief. 

“He’s coming,” Leia said. 

“All right.” Luke looked around one last time, checking the shadows; still nothing. “Let’s go.” 

He stepped forward. 

And a hand _ grabbed _his arm. 

Another ghost, another ghost--Luke spun with a shout, trying to yank himself away even as Leia gasped, but the ghost wouldn’t move. He couldn’t shake the grip; it was strong as iron, like a steel clamp on his arm, and he couldn’t get away. 

And he couldn’t see the ghost either. 

Leia pulled her blaster. “Let him _ go!” _

Luke peered into the darkness, trying to see, searching for the wispy, rotted armor; and then the bulbs flared to reveal the monstrous form of Darth Vader. 

Luke froze, his whole body seizing up in terror. 

Leia did better. After a moment of silence, she let loose a feral scream and began firing, over and over and over. 

But each blaster bolt was blocked by Vader’s other hand, which he raised effortlessly before ripping the blaster out of Leia’s hand. 

Now it was Leia’s turn to freeze. 

_ Just like he did to Han. _

That thought was not Luke’s; that was Leia’s voice, he realized. That was her thought.

But before he could think about what that meant, the grip on his arm tightened, almost to the point of pain; and the insect-like mask emerged from the shadows to hover over him, triumphant.

“So,” Vader said, the monotone voice rich with satisfaction. “I have you at last.” 

“No--” Luke’s right arm, his _ right wrist, _was caught in Vader’s grasp, and it took all the strength he had not to panic, but somehow he pulled his own blaster with his left hand. “No, you don’t!” 

But before he could fire, that weapon was ripped from his grasp as well. 

Luke stared, horrified, at the Dark Lord, at the man who...who claimed to be his father. With no weapons, with no lightsaber, he doubted he’d be able to do anything against him. 

“I _ do, _” Vader said, pulling Luke closer to him; as much as Luke dug in his heels, he couldn’t resist. “You cannot run from me any longer, my--”

“No!” Luke shouted at the last second, _ all too aware _of Leia standing right there. If he told her--if she found out--

She would hate him. 

“Your what?” Leia demanded, stepping forward. 

“No!” Luke tried to turn backward to address her, but his current position made that difficult, to say the least. “Leia, don’t--”

But the Force was already shifting, cold darkness tainting it; Luke followed the root of the cold, but was met by a blank wall. Vader.

There was no way to guess what Vader was thinking. What he was going to--

“Oh, but Your Highness,” Vader said, rich smugness in his voice. “Has he not told you?”

Leia stiffened. “Told me _ what? _”

“That Luke is--”

Terror raced through him. “No!” 

Without a second’s hesitation, Vader reached up and pressed his other hand over Luke’s mouth, effectively silencing him. Luke trembled, panic filling him as he struggled against the powerful grip, but he couldn’t get away. 

_ There is no escape. _

“That Luke is my _ son, _” Vader said. 

Leia was silent. 

Vader removed his hand from Luke’s mouth, but it was no good, now; the truth was out, the truth that--that even he couldn’t completely accept yet, but...a truth that he felt the certainty of in the Force. 

A truth he wished didn’t exist, but it did. 

“You’re _ lying,” _Leia said, her voice high-pitched. “Luke, you can’t believe that! He’s lying to try to mess with the two of us!” 

Luke couldn’t find a response. 

“Luke,” Leia said again. “Tell me he’s lying.” 

Slowly, Luke turned around to look at her; the look in her eyes was desperate, pleading, begging him to tell her what she wanted to hear. 

Mutely, he shook his head. 

The red bulbs flared again, allowing Luke to see the blood drain from her face. 

“No,” she whispered. “You’re not--he’s not--” 

“Leia, _ please,” _Luke said, at last finding his voice. “Please don’t--”

“Don’t what?” she demanded. 

“Don’t…” He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the horror on her face. He wanted to kill Vader, he didn’t care if...if it was true, he wanted to murder him on the spot for taking Leia away from him, the _ last person left _who really, truly understood him. “Don’t leave me.” 

Silence. 

Something changed; the words had done something to her, and now Leia looked as if two emotions were fighting within her for control. A tiny flutter of hope rose in his chest--

But Leia’s emotions weren’t the only ones that had shifted. 

Something at last reached him from behind that blank wall that was Vader: a faint emotion, but a potent one. 

Anger. 

He _ wanted _Luke to be alone. 

He wanted for no one to be loyal to him. 

Even as the thought crossed Luke’s mind, Leia’s internal dilemma seemed to have resolved itself; she no longer looked conflicted, and she took a step forward, setting her jaw. 

_ Please, _ Luke thought, _ please… _

Dark fury attached his mind, cold icicles digging into his mind, and Luke gasped; had Vader _ heard that? _

_ She will not forgive you, _ came a voice in his mind, and Luke froze, his heartbeat racing faster and panic threatening to overwhelm him because _ Vader was in his head, _ just like Bespin. _ And if she does, rest assured that you will not be happy with the result. _

Luke looked up at him, horrified. Did he mean...he wasn’t surely…?

“I’ll never leave you,” Leia said, and he looked to see her standing straight and tall; her ‘straight and tall’ was more than a head shorter than Vader, but she didn’t seem to care. “You’re nothing like him, and I don’t why I ever thought so.” She looked away from Luke to glare up at Vader. “And I will _ never _leave you alone with that piece of shit as long as I have a choice.” 

Despite Vader, despite the shadows, despite _ everything, _Luke smiled. She was with him. She didn’t hate him; and he was not alone. 

Then, without a warning, he was flung through the air to land on the ground.

Darkness edged in on his vision, real darkness and not the gloom of Umbara--his head felt like it was splitting open--but still Luke dragged himself up, because now Leia was in danger, because he could _ feel _Vader’s fury in the Force. 

It was the only thing he could feel from Vader. 

“You _ fool, _ ” Vader hissed, towering over Leia; she was in the air, Luke registered dimly, _ he was killing her. _ “You do not have a choice. I am taking him with me, I am taking him off of this Force-forsaken planet, and if you will try to stop me... _ you will die.” _

_ Luke! _

Leia’s voice. Inside his mind. 

Once again, she was talking in his head, completely unaware of it--this was too strange--but Luke couldn’t do anything about that now. 

All he knew was that she needed him to help her. 

“Stop!” he shouted at Vader. “Stop!” And, though it burned him to say it aloud, he had to. “_ Father, stop!” _

He didn’t even turn his head. 

_ You cannot stop me, son. _ The voice was hard and cold inside his head, and Luke couldn’t believe it--he wouldn’t. _ You can only watch. _

_ No! Stop it! _

_ Then make me stop it. Use your anger. _

Leia looked at him desperately, her eyes bloodshot now--just like the dead clones--and he knew that he could not use his anger. 

Leia wouldn’t want him to do what Vader wanted. 

He had to stop him a different way. But how? 

Leia got out a scream again; somehow, in the Force, Luke felt Vader squeeze tighter. 

That was it. 

Luke walked forward, still unable to believe what was happening--his father was killing Leia, Leia was going to _ die _\--ignoring the way the dead clones grasped at him, the way the mists pulled at him, as if in warning. 

“Stop!” he shouted again, taking another step. 

Leia dragged in a breath. 

Vader had loosened his grip, if only slightly; at long last, his helmet was turned toward Luke. 

Luke took another step. 

_ No, _he heard on the wind--the ghosts. He ignored them. 

_ Stop, _ he thought, hoping for once that Vader heard him. _ Stop it! _

Panic flared--Leia’s, that was Leia, and he picked up the pace, resolve filling him as he walked toward Vader, toward the father he hated. 

_ No! Stop! _

Vader’s voice, in his head; and in real life, Vader was reaching out his other hand, toward him. As if to stop him. 

Luke took another step. 

And then the ground under his feet exploded. 

  
  


His fault. 

In an instant, Vader ceased to care about Leia Organa; he dropped her, his attention turning to Luke as he reached out to shove him away from what was about to be an explosion. 

He was too late. 

The Force of the blast caught his son, throwing him across the road and through the air to land hard on his back. Anger burned at him, hot and potent...and fear, more powerful, stabbed at him. 

His fault. His fault. 

_Are you the General?_ Voices, a whisper on the wind; it belonged to those clones, and he ignored them. They were only ghosts, nothing more. _Tell us. Tell us. _

He was not Anakin. Anakin was dead. And yet...

Remorse. Utter, biting remorse, the worst he had felt in twenty-two years, was all he knew.

He had thrown Luke, put him in the way of the bombs, which must have been left over from the sweep during the Clone Wars. 

He had tried to kill Leia Organa, which had made Luke come closer…

Vader never ran. But now he did; now, there was no other choice, despite the pain it gave him. In an instant, he had crossed the road and dropped to his knees in front of his son. 

Who wasn’t moving. 

_ Luke! _ Vader threw himself against Luke’s mind, desperately hoping for him to wake up, to move, to do or say _ anything _ at all. _ Luke, do you hear me? _

Nothing. 

A short cough, and Vader turned to see that the Princess had dropped to her knees on Luke’s other side. He spun on her with a snarl. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Get away from him!” 

“No,” she said, her voice coming out terrible and ragged from nearly being choked to death; but she didn’t seem to care. “He won’t listen to you.”

“Of course he will,” Vader snapped, ready to kill her again. “He--”

“He _ hates you! _” Leia shouted. “Can’t you get it into your head? He worshiped his father all his life, and then not only did you tell him that you were his father, you tortured Han and cut off his hand!”

Rage speared through him, rage and fury and...and sadness. Did she not realize that he _ wanted _a son? That, as a Sith, this was the best that he could give him?

“You do not _ know, _” he hissed. “You cannot know! You know nothing of the Force, you--”

“Oh, bull_ shit,” _ Leia snarled. “You honestly think the Force is what matters? What he wants is a father who loves him, _ can’t you see that?” _

Vader did see that, he saw that and _ more, _he saw the burns arching up Luke’s arms and neck, he saw the thin line of the prosthetic arm...but he could not bring himself to say anything. 

And that was fortunate, because suddenly, Luke moved. 

It was the tiniest flutter of movement, the shifting of his hand, but it was movement; Luke was waking up. Anxiously, Vader bent over him, reaching out to touch him as his eyes opened. 

“Luke--” he said, and then Luke’s eyes snapped open all the way. 

“No,” he moaned, trying in vain to push himself away. “Don’t...don’t touch me!”

The words _ burned. _ The Princess was right; Luke _ did _hate him. Immediately, Vader recoiled. 

What could he do? 

He had ruined _ everything. _

Leia gave him a pointed look, as if to say, _ I told you so, _before bending over Luke herself. 

“It’s all right,” she said, smoothing a lock of hair out of Luke’s eyes. “It’s me. I’m here.”

Slowly, the terror--terror of him, Luke was afraid of him, _ why had he not seen how wrong that was _\--faded from Luke’s eyes, and he focused. “L...Leia?”

Leia smiled, a tear dropping onto her cheek. “It’s me, Luke. It’s me.” 

“What…” Luke’s eyes slid slowly toward his father, and the boy shuddered, sending a fresh wave of guilt through Vader. “What happened?”

“Shh.” Leia placed a finger to his lips. “Don’t talk. We...we need to get you off Umbara. We never should’ve come.”

“We.” Luke struggled to focus; he was in pain, that much Vader could feel from the Force. He had severe burns, and at least one leg was broken from his fall, if not both. “We? You…” Once more, he glanced at Vader. “I’m not...not going with…”

“You don’t have a choice,” Leia said. “I’m...I’m sorry. The pilot didn’t come.” 

Luke’s eyes slid closed, and a single tear dropped out to run a trail through the ash on his cheek. 

_ Enough. _

Luke hated him. Luke was terrified for him; and despite himself, Vader knew that he had to be a _ father. _

No more. 

“You have nothing to fear,” he said, hating the way his voice sounded, hating that he could not make himself sound compassionate. The shadows bent over him, the mists sweeping closer--the ghosts of the clones, many of whom had served under him, and it hit Vader instantly how much suffering he had caused--and Luke shivered. 

“Yeah...yeah...right.” His voice was weaker; Vader needed to get him off of this planet. “You want...to take everyone from me. To...use me.” 

“No,” Vader said fiercely. “No, I do not. I…” 

He couldn’t say it, he was a Sith, he couldn’t--

Leia looked sharply at him. 

“I am sorry.” 

“I...you…” Luke blinked, looking confused beyond belief. “What?” 

“I..._ am...sorry.” _The words tasted like ash in his mouth, ground out by force; but he had to say them. He had to be a father. “Will...you come?” 

Gingerly, carefully, he reached out to touch Luke’s face; he felt fear shoot through the boy, but this time there was no resistance, and Vader was able to wipe the tear from Luke’s face. 

The smallest of smiles stretched Luke’s lips. “Yes. If…” His voice was even weaker, and Vader wanted to scream, to rend the galaxy, to do anything and everything until Luke was well and until Luke felt safe, but he remained still as Luke looked over at the Princess. “If Leia comes.” 

At that, Vader almost killed her again; but then, abruptly, he reined himself in. Perhaps, if Leia Organa came, Luke would be less likely to resist him. 

Perhaps then, Luke would stop hating him. 

Not love him. Luke would never love him, of that Vader was certain; it was less than he deserved. But...maybe he would stop hating him. 

“All right,” Vader said, as softly as he possibly could. “She may come.” 

Leia looked at him, surprise writ large on her face; but she said nothing. Vader could sense her relief. He would have to deal with that. 

There was also, he supposed, the matter of the Princess’s latent Force sensitivity. 

“May…” Vader carefully, gently, ran his fingers across Luke’s forehead, to touch his hair. _ Anakin’s hair. _“May I lift you, son?” 

Luke’s breath hitched, his fear spiking; but Leia nodded at him. 

“He...does care about you,” she said, hesitantly. 

Slowly, Luke looked back at Vader, hope in his face. “Do you?” 

“I...do.” Vader removed his hand. “You are my son.”

Luke smiled then, and it occurred to Vader that he had never seen Luke smile; and that, furthermore, this one was directed at _ him. _

_ This is the happiest day of my life. _

“Yes,” Luke whispered, and Vader needed no further permission. Delicately, fearing that he would break Luke if he held him too tightly, he slid his arms under Luke’s back and knees to lift him into his arms. 

Immediately, Leia stood up with him. 

“I’m not leaving, Luke,” she said. “Not for a second.” 

Luke was still barely conscious, but he managed to look over at his friend. “I know.” 

And as she stood there, Vader remembered the presence of another woman after a battle gone wrong; the large, brown eyes looking into his as she swept his hair out of his face, just as Leia was doing to Luke. 

That was a coincidence. Nothing more. 

Still, it would take looking into. 

He walked slowly towards his shuttle, careful with Luke’s injuries, Leia by his side; and as he walked, he noticed again the clones in the shadows, the ghosts killed by his willingness to obey orders, his refusal to stay on Umbara. 

Hardcase. 

That had been his name. 

Subtly, knowing that neither Luke nor Leia saw, Vader nodded. 

That was all the clones had needed: the subtlest of signs. The smallest of apologies. Slowly, as Vader walked through their midst carrying the weakened form of his son, they melted into the mists of Umbara.

They did not return again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an alternate version of this by my friend [SpellCleaver!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellCleaver/pseuds/SpellCleaver) Basically we brainstormed at the same time and it branched off into two different ideas. You can read her version [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363772/chapters/58259275)


	9. Guilty As Charged(Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke Naberrie is falsely accused of a crime; Vader shows up to arrest him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a Luke Naberrie AU! I've wanted to do one of these for the longest time. 
> 
> Warning: no violence, but Luke is 16 in this, so there's mistreatment and abuse of minors.  
Also, Ruya Naberrie is not canon; I invented her for my fic Family Finds A Way and I like her too much.

“Hey, Luke! Get in here!” 

“We need you for a second!” 

Halfway to the hangar of spaceships, Luke Naberrie let out a long sigh. He’d hoped to go flying this afternoon, in the brand new ship he’d received for his sixteenth birthday; but, apparently, his older sisters needed him. He could just ignore them, but if he did they’d just call him back later. 

He just hoped they weren’t going to ask if they could test out their cosmetics on his face. Again. He’d put up with it once, but he was not going to let _ that _happen again. 

He stopped in front of his sister Ryoo’s bedroom; she and Pooja were both sitting there expectantly. “What is it? I was just about to go fly my new ship--”

“But you’ve already flown it!” Pooja said; she was only a few years older, and could get away with pouting. “Twice. And we need help.” 

Luke frowned. “With what?” 

“Well,” Ryoo said, “there’s this boy in the Senate--”

Luke rolled his eyes, already knowing what they were about to ask him. “Okay, no. See you guys later.” 

Immediately, both his sisters let out cries of protest. 

“But, _ Luuuuuke, _ ” whined Pooja, “he’s so _ cuuuute!” _

Luke blinked. What was he supposed to say to _ that? _He had no idea how to judge how attractive someone was, boy or girl. 

He sighed. “And what am I supposed to do about that?” 

Ryoo groaned. “Just _ get in here. _”

Dragging his steps dramatically, Luke slid into the room and plopped himself down next to them. 

“Okay, fine,” he sighed, and Pooja squealed. “What’s his name?”

“His name is Tuvo Chuchi,” Ryoo said, sounding much calmer than Pooja. 

Luke frowned; he knew the name Chuchi, it belonged to a friend of his parents. “Riyo Chuchi’s son?”

Ryoo nodded. 

“How...how old is he?”

“He’s twenty-one,” said Pooja, dreamily(she was nineteen). “And he. Is. _ Gorgeous.” _

Ryoo shot her sister a look. “He doesn’t care about that, remember?” 

“Right, right.” Pooja rolled her eyes. “Okay. Besides that, he is a _ fantastic _ speaker. He’s so level-headed! His arguments are wonderful, and on top of that he’s got _ such _passion...and those dark eyes…” 

“Anyway,” Ryoo said hastily, seeming to realize she needed to be steering this conversation if she wanted to keep Luke’s attention. “Tuvo’s a great speaker--damn, we said that already--and, uh, he’s so _ kind, _too. He clearly cares for people!” 

Luke wrinkled his nose. “He’s a politician.” 

“Well, he does,” Ryoo said loftily; she was twenty-three, and clearly considered herself much wiser than Pooja. “But I’m not kidding, Luke, he’s so persuasive in the Senate! He’s even better than Leia Organa.” 

At that, Luke’s jaw dropped, and he shoved Ryoo. “He is _ not.” _

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pooja said. “He is!” 

“You’re just saying that,” Luke protested. “I’ve _ seen _Leia, and she knows what she’s doing! She--”

He broke off, realizing that Ryoo and Pooja were grinning. 

“Before you say it, I do _ not _have a crush on her,” he snapped. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” 

“Well, you’re friends with Leia,” Ryoo said, and both of them ignored Pooja’s meaningful giggle, “and several other Senators as well.” 

“_I__’m _not a Senator,” Luke said, terrified at the very idea. 

“Well, no,” Pooja admitted. “But like Ryoo said, you’re friends with them. So…” 

“You want me to introduce you to Tuvo Chuchi,” Luke said, realizing what they wanted. 

Instantly, Ryoo and Pooja nodded. 

“But I don’t even know him!” Luke protested. “What am I supposed to do, go up and talk to him?” 

“It’s better than one of _ us _doing it,” said Pooja. “I couldn’t handle that!” 

“You put a spider under my pillow when you were twelve, I’m sure you could do it,” Luke said. “And what if _ I _decide I have a crush on him?” 

Pooja gasped. “You wouldn’t!” 

“You don’t have a crush on him,” Ryoo said, rolling her eyes. 

“Okay, I don’t,” Luke admitted. “But--”

Both of them gave him the biggest akk dog eyes he’d seen in his life; they must _ really _like Tuvo. Luke relented. 

“All right,” he sighed. “I’ll talk to him.” 

Both of his sisters gasped, shrieked, and lunged forward to kiss him on the cheek, one on each side. 

“Okay, okay,” Luke said, sure that he was blushing now. “Stop it!” Laughing, they backed off. “You owe me now, you know.” 

“Of course, of course,” Ryoo said. “You don’t even have to ask.” 

“Ahh, imagine not having a brother,” Pooja said. “What would we even _ do?” _

“You’d get along fine,” Luke said dryly, and then someone screamed. 

Immediately, all three siblings jumped to their feet. There hadn’t been an assassination attempt in months, but ever since Mama’s injury--

“Ruya!” came their mother’s voice. “Ruya, _ get back here!” _

They relaxed instantly. 

“Oh, great,” Luke said. 

“I wonder what she got into this time,” Ryoo said, and soon they were running for the door. 

Outside Ryoo’s room, Sola Naberrie and at least half a dozen handmaids were sprinting down the halls--and in front of them ran the four-year-old Ruya, clutching something in her hand and giggling. 

“Ruya,” Luke called; maybe he could stop her. “Ruya, what do you have?” 

Ruya looked up at him as she passed, looking the most gleeful Luke had ever seen her; her mouth was covered with chocolate. “A knife!” 

Luke gasped. “No!” 

Ruya shrieked with laughter as Luke, Ryoo, and Pooja broke into a run. But she couldn’t evade them for long; Luke had a knack for following his instincts, and in a moment he was able to grab his little sister from behind. 

“Gotcha,” he said, as she laughed harder. 

“Hey,” Ryoo said in a falsely calm voice, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, Ruya, can I see what you have?” 

It was, in fact, a knife, which had clearly been used to cut the cake Ruya had gotten into. It looked extremely sharp, and Luke swallowed. 

“Nuh-uh,” Ruya said. “Mine.” 

“Well, no,” Ryoo said in that faux-calm voice. “It’s not yours, it’s the servants’ knife. You don’t want them to get in trouble, do you?”

The smile left Ruya’s face. “No.” 

“All right, then.” Ryoo beckoned to Pooja, who got on Ruya’s other side and slowly pulled the girl’s fingers away from the handle of the knife. After several excruciating seconds, it was free. 

Heaving sighs, Luke and Ryoo sat back on their haunches as Pooja got up, still holding the knife. 

A smaller thump, and Ruya sat down beside him. 

“That was funny,” she laughed. 

“No,” Luke said sternly. “No, it wasn’t!” 

“Yes, it _ was,” _she said. “You all looked so mad!” 

“That,” Ryoo said, “is because we _ were. _Now, you go apologize to Mama.” 

She didn’t need to go anywhere. A shadow fell over them, and they looked up; Sola Naberrie stood there, her arms crossed over her chest. 

Ruya’s lip trembled. “Sorry, Mama.” 

“Oh, Ruya.” Bending down, Sola picked her up. “I love you, but what have I said about taking weapons?” 

“Not safe,” Ruya said, her mouth settling into a pout. 

“Exactly.” Sola looked at Luke and Ryoo. “Thank you for stopping her. I have no idea how a four-year-old can run so fast.” 

“Me neither,” Luke said with a glance at Ruya, who made an effort to look innocent. 

“Well, get up, you two.” Sola smiled. “Papa’s home from the meeting, and it’s time for dinner.” 

“All right.” With a groan, Luke dragged himself to his feet. “We’re coming.”

Without warning, the doors burst open, and Amil Naberrie ran inside, looking very haggard, out of breath, and absolutely terrified. 

“Sola!” he shouted. “Sola, where’s Luke? Where--” His eyes fell on Luke. “Ah. All right, there he is--”

Luke was alarmed. “What’s going on? What about me?” 

“Yes, Amil,” Sola said, handing Ruya off to some of the handmaids. “What’s wrong?” 

“There’s--there’s been a murder,” Amil gasped. “In the city. Some kid, maybe a gang member, a criminal, a young bounty hunter, I don’t know, but he shot some woman. It’s been all cleaned up now, but--but--”

“What’s it got to do with Luke?” Ryoo demanded. 

“That’s just it,” Amil said grimly. “They think Luke did it.” 

  
  


It took a few seconds for his father’s words to sink in. 

Then, there was only space for horror.

“What?” he gasped. “But how could they--why would they--I--I was right here the whole time!” 

“Yeah, we were just talking to him!” Ryoo said. “He was in our room!” 

“Unfortunately, the criminal looks...remarkably like you, Luke,” Amil said heavily. “And after the murder was committed, he ran back this way--”

“So they think _ I’m _this criminal?” Luke started to tremble under the implications of what his father was saying. “But--but when they question me, they’ll see I have an alibi, they won’t be able to do anything to me.” 

“It’s...I wish I could say that,” Amil said. “But…”

“But what?” There were tears in his eyes now, and furiously Luke tried to blink them away; this was all just _ too much. _“What reason would the local authorities have to--”

“Not the local authorities,” Amil said. “That’s the problem. You see, the person who was killed was...an Imperial governor, visiting Naboo under the Emperor’s command. And because we do not approve of the Empire…”

Luke couldn’t speak. He could barely even _ think. _It was all too horrifying; because, as fast as this was developing, he understood what his father meant. 

“The Empire can’t take him away,” Sola said fiercely. “They can’t! He’s just sixteen, and they have no proof!” 

“With the Empire, there is no proof,” Amil said, hatred in his eyes. “Only the word. There is no _ justice _ with them. But I swear, Luke--” Amil placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder, so tight it hurt, but it helped to ground him. “I _ swear _that we will not let them take you.”

“Yeah,” Pooja said. “They’d have to kill us first.” 

“I did not mean you,” Amil said sharply. “One child in danger is enough for today.” 

“Do…” Sola looked at Amil desperately. “They don’t _ know, _do they?”

Amil shook his head. “No. They can’t be. I triple checked the information they have; they can’t know.” 

“Know what?” Luke demanded. This was all too confusing--

“Nothing,” Sola said. “Nothing.”

But he got the distinct feeling it was not _ nothing. _

“It doesn’t matter, Luke,” Sola said, putting a hand on his shoulder as well. “You’ve been wrongly accused, and we will _ not _let anything happen to you!” 

Even as she spoke the words, the doors were flung open again, and at least a dozen Stormtroopers entered, each holding blasters. They were here for him, they were to arrest him; Luke’s heart began to race, and he looked around desperately. They couldn’t take him, they couldn’t take him--

“Ryoo, Pooja,” Sola said, not taking her eyes off the Stormtroopers. “Get to your room.” 

Both young women looked as though they wanted to do _ anything _but that, but that tone was not to be argued with. They moved toward Ryoo’s bedroom in an instant, casting desperate glances back toward Luke. 

As soon as they were gone, both of his parents moved in on either side of him protectively; and instantly, Luke felt better. They would protect him. They wouldn’t let him just be taken like some common criminal. 

“Stop,” Amil ordered. “Stop there! We won’t let you take him!” 

“He is _ our _son,” Sola added. “We’ll fight you ourselves if we have to.” 

Miraculously, the Stormtroopers stopped, as if they hadn’t been prepared for that. 

Luke allowed himself to take deep breaths. They hadn’t succeeded yet; of course, the Stormtroopers could not deny the word of two high-ranking nobles such as his parents. 

He was still safe. 

Then, in the distance, a shadow appeared, and Luke’s hope left him. 

His parents could not deny _ Darth Vader. _

He’d hoped it was just his imagination, just a ghost; but as the tall, dark figure came to stand in the doorway, Luke realized it was true. Vader himself had come to take him away; and that more than anything almost made him burst into tears. So he would not be electrocuted, not killed by a firing squad, as terrible as those options were; he would be impaled by a lightsaber, or worse...choked to death by an unseen force...

“Steady, Luke,” Sola said, her hand tightening on his arm; he realized he’d been trembling. “I won’t let _ him _take you either.” 

But how could she? How could she deny the Emperor’s executioner? 

And then Vader began to walk forward. Luke had seen him once before, on a trip to Coruscant for Empire Day--which had also happened to be his seventh birthday--and he had been terrified then; the skeletal mask, with its grate-like mouth and insectoid lenses, had haunted his nightmares for months. But it was worse to see him up close, worse to know that Vader had come for Luke personally. 

“Stop there, Lord Vader,” Sola called across the hall. “You will not have him.” 

But Vader only continued to come closer, and closer...and _ closer. _“The Empire will not be denied, woman. The boy must pay for his crimes.” 

“I--I--I haven’t committed any crimes!” Luke shouted, somehow finding the courage to speak. “I’m innocent!” 

_ Now _ Vader stopped, a mere five meters away, and Luke swallowed. He hadn’t realized just how huge the Sith Lord was, but this close he was terrifying. Vader _ towered. _

“An Imperial governor has been killed,” Vader boomed, and Luke wanted to slam his hands over his ears to shut out the sound of that echoing voice, the grating of the respirator; it was too loud, Vader was too close, and he felt like his senses were being overwhelmed. “Your family is known for your distrust of the Empire. The murderer is your age. The murderer looks almost identical to you. What further _ proof _is necessary?”

Luke almost couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe; but he did not want to let this man--if he _ was _a man--terrify him into submission. 

“I had an alibi,” he said, his voice quaking; with an effort, he forced it to be steady. “I was here--I was here the whole time--”

“Then you will testify,” Vader said, taking another step, “in front of the Empire.” 

“No!” he shouted as Vader reached for him. “No, I won’t!” 

“You can’t take him,” Sola snapped, she and Amil stepping forward as if to shield him. “It’s against the law, he’s barely sixteen!” 

But that didn’t stop Vader even for a moment. 

“Then,” he said, smoothly, too smoothly, “you will simply have to give your permission for me to take him.”

“No,” she said fiercely, “we _ won’t.” _Then she cocked her head, as if she knew something. “And before you think of killing me, Vader…” She smiled, as if challenging him. “I know you can’t.” 

Roaring anger filled the air, filled his _ mind, _ and it _ hurt; _Luke knew without a doubt that it was Vader’s, that that had made Vader furious--

“No,” snarled the Sith Lord, “not _ you.” _

There was a moment of horrifying silence. 

Then, Amil gasped for air. 

Luke spun, feeling the lack of pressure on his right side, where Amil had been standing; and then he froze. His father was a foot off the ground, hands clutching at his throat--Vader was choking him--Vader was killing him--

“No!” Sola screamed, terror in her voice. “No! You can’t!” 

There was no answer from Vader, only a horrible gurgling sound from Amil’s throat. He would die, Luke knew; Vader had no qualms about killing him, about killing anyone--

“No!” he shouted at Vader. “Papa--no! Stop it!” 

“Then--” Even while choking Amil, Vader turned and lowered his mask right into Luke’s face. “Then tell your mother to _ give her permission.” _

Desperately, Luke looked back at his mother. There were tears streaming down her face. 

Amil stretched out a hand, then, toward Sola. “So...la...don’t…” 

But Sola stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists. “I give my permission, you absolute _ bastard. _I hope you burn in hell.” 

Immediately, Amil was released. 

“I am a man of my word,” Vader said, almost silkily, while Amil gasped for air on the ground. 

Luke dropped to his knees, desperate to make sure his father was all right; he turned him over and shook him, tears in his eyes. 

“Papa,” he whispered. “Papa, please wake up!” 

To his relief, his father’s eyes opened. For a moment, he seemed at peace--he smiled--and then his eyes were filled with horror. 

“No,” he rasped. “No, she should have--” He looked up at Sola. “Sola, I told you--”

“I’m sorry,” Sola whispered, and suddenly Luke realized what this meant for him.

Even as he started to look back, toward his mother, toward Vader, a grip stronger than iron seized his arm, and he was yanked roughly to his feet. 

“No--” His father was safe now, which meant that Luke could fight all he wanted to keep from being arrested, to keep from being _ dragged to his death. _“No! I won’t, I won’t come with you--”

But there was no shaking that hold; it was stronger than the grip of any _ living being, _feeling instead like a droid as it gripped his arms, twisted them behind his back with enough strength to bruise. 

“Just because I gave my permission does not mean you get to treat him that way,” Sola snarled, stepping forward; but beneath the anger, there was _ terror _in her voice. “He’s a boy!” 

“And at present--” Vader spun Luke around, holding him in front of him. “At present, he stands accused of a crime.”

Luke was only given one second to look at his mother--and at his father, still coughing on the floor--before the hands tightened and he was swung back around, and--

And he would never see her again. 

He would never see his mother again. 

“No!” he screamed, trying desperately to turn around to look at his mother; but the hold on his arms was too strong, and he was forced to face forward again. “No! Mama! MAMA!”

“_ Luke!” _His name came out in a scream, as if in a last effort to try to save him. “Vader, stop! This is inhumane!” 

And Vader did stop, for one second. 

“It is the will of the Empire,” he said harshly, and Luke had only gotten one glimpse of his mother’s face, one glimpse of that gentle face that had laughed with him and comforted him and whispered sweet lullabies, before he was marched forward at a relentless pace, out of the hall, away from his parents. 

The doors swung shut behind him, and Luke closed his eyes, trying to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to fall. 

It was no use. The tears fell anyway. 

He would never see his parents again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, we're back to multishots! This one's only a two-parter though.
> 
> Also, I'm now on Tumblr! Collaborative with several other fic writers, but still--you can access my writing there too, as well as the writing of other fantastic authors! Check it out [here.](https://star-robins.tumblr.com/)


	10. Guilty As Charged(Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Part One: Vader takes Luke into his custody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief reference to the Clone Wars show, specifically the arc where Ahsoka is framed, because I can't stop getting inspired by these episodes, apparently.

Darth Vader was supposed to be hunting reports of Rebel activity near Axxila; _ that _ was the more pressing objective. The fledgling Rebel Alliance was becoming more of a threat by the day, more of a threat to the Empire he had devoted his life to. And if they were near Axxila, _ that _was where he needed to be.

_ That _was what he should be doing. 

He should not be arresting a boy who looked _ all too familiar, _ a boy that _ should _have been his but was not. 

Not his nephew, not his nephew. The nephew of _ Anakin Skywalker, _and Skywalker was long dead. 

It only served to make him angrier as he shoved the boy forward through the halls of the Naberries’ palace, a palace he had once _ been in, _with Sola Naberrie herself--and with someone else--

He shoved that thought from his mind. No more. She was gone, and with her his child; this boy was a _ relative _ of hers, there to mock him; _ not _ his, _ not _hers, because she was gone. There was no light or love left in the world--only anger, and deep, endless bitterness. 

The boy--Vader did not even remember his name, only that it began with the letter L--trembled under his hands as he marched him through the halls, his thoughts screaming at Vader, at the world, at anyone who could hear to let him go; but Vader could not bring himself to care. He could not care that he was afraid, that he wanted his parents back; Vader would have given anything to see his own child, but had been denied that right. Vader did not even care that the boy was panting, struggling to walk as fast as he was being made to walk, because all he wanted was to get _ out _of that cursed building. 

_ Not my fault, _ continued to echo in the Naberrie boy’s mind. _ Not my fault, it’s not my fault-- _

Vader ignored him, raising his shields so that no thoughts could intrude. He did not much suspect that this boy was guilty; he was small, a runt of a teenager, fresh-faced and innocent. He would not be guilty of murder, and besides, he could feel in the Force that he was innocent. 

That, he supposed, meant that the boy would be incarcerated, put on trial, and probably executed for a crime he hadn’t committed. For a moment, that thought made Vader pause...but ultimately he decided he didn’t care. The boy’s fate meant nothing to him. All he wanted was to return to the hunt for the Rebels. 

Besides, once her _ son _ died, Sola Naberrie would suffer for making him remember... _ her, _ for challenging _ her _ memory, for bringing every moment of pain and anguish and loss and _ every reason he hated himself _back to the forefront of his mind. 

They passed through a door and outside the palace. Immediately, the pressure and pain left him. 

The boy, however, was a different matter. Upon sight of Vader’s shuttle, with the ramp lowered and waiting, he renewed his struggle, shoving at Vader’s hold on his arms, kicking out with his legs, and doing everything in his power to try to escape. However, his meager strength was nothing compared to Vader’s, who only tightened his grip. 

But although he was sure to have bruises on his arms by now, not even that stopped him. 

“Let me go!” he shouted, dragging in his heels. “Let me go, I--I’m innocent--” He turned around to look desperately up at his captor; and, to Vader’s shock, the boy met his eyes _ directly, _despite that only his master was ever so accurate. 

_ Interesting. _

“I swear,” he half-shouted, half-sobbed, “I swear I--I didn’t do it--” 

“Quiet,” Vader snarled, shoving him forward. 

“I--” The Naberrie boy’s lip stopped shaking, and he screwed up his face with a remarkable amount of determination. “I--I’m not going to let you kill me, I _ didn’t do it!” _

_ “I’m not going to take the fall for something I didn’t do!” _

Vader stopped dead. 

Another unbidden memory...another person who he had hurt, beyond recall…

_ “I would never let anyone hurt you--” _

He was too much like her, like both of them. Sensitive and compassionate like one...eager and determined like the other…

Rage took him. Vader loosened his grip on his nephew’s arms so that he could spin him around and backhand him across the face. 

The Naberrie boy cried out as he was thrown across the courtyard he’d grown up in, and then again as he hit the ground. But Vader didn’t wait for him to recover; he stalked over, yanked him by his shirt collar, and made him walk. 

“I have had _ enough _ of your theatrics,” he hissed in the boy’s ear. “Whether you like it or not, this is an Imperial order, and you _ will _obey.” 

“It’s not my fault,” his nephew whimpered, hardly loud enough for Vader to hear. “It’s not...it’s not my…” 

Vader glanced at the Stormtroopers walking alongside them. They hadn’t reacted at all; it was as if they hadn’t heard the boy’s words in the first place. 

It _ wasn’t _out loud. 

Vader froze. 

It was _ in his head. _

And the _ boy, _ this runt of a child, had spoken these words _ right at Vader. _He’d projected them, into his mind. 

That meant only one thing. 

“W-what is it?” the boy stammered, his voice weak, seemingly wondering why Vader wasn’t moving. “What’s--what--”

Vader moved with purpose, half shoving, half dragging the boy up the ramp and into the shuttle. The Stormtroopers walked past him, already preparing to take them off Naboo--_ thank the Force-- _but Vader wasted no time in marching Sola Naberrie’s son into the passenger compartment, putting his hands on his shoulders, and leaning into his personal space. 

Terror reached him, _ through the Force, _and Vader was satisfied. Good. The more terrified he was, the more answers he would give. 

_ What does he want? _ The boy’s thoughts were screaming into his mind, whether consciously or not; probably the latter. Most likely he had never been taught to shield; everything that he was doing now, he was doing unconsciously, which meant that he was incredibly powerful. _ What did I say? I didn’t say anything, I don’t think I said anything-- _ The equivalent of a whimper came across the Force. _ I want to see Mama...and Papa...I want this to be over-- _

“You,” Vader hissed, tightening his grip on the boy’s shoulder. “You are _ Force-sensitive.” _

The boy blinked, his face already wet with tears; several more spilled out. “What?”

“Do not LIE to me!” Vader roared, pushing him up against the wall. “The Force. Whether you are aware of it, you must know what the Force _is, _and _you have it.” _The boy stuttered, but Vader sensed the truth: he knew it, he knew that he was Force-sensitive, and he had never said anything. And that meant one more thing. “You are _not _a Naberrie!” 

At that, the boy’s face, until now so terrified, contorted in rage. 

“I am!” he shouted. The bruise on his face stood out amidst the tears, a splotch of red and purple on his cheek; Vader didn’t know why he noticed that. “I _ am _a Naberrie!” 

“How can you _ say that?” _This was worse than the boy being a relative, worse than having to look at a Naberrie who looked like him; instead, that name was being used, abused as his own. He had no right to call himself by that name. “It is not your name. The Naberries are not Force-sensitive!” 

And he should know. 

“I don’t care,” the boy said. “I don’t care if I have the Force, I’m a Naberrie! I--”

“You _ cannot be. _What proof do you have?” 

“What proof do I have?” His voice was shrill; this was personal for him. “I--okay, I lied, Sola Naberrie isn’t my birth mother, but--but she is my _ mother, _and--and you stole me from--”

“So you admit it!” His rage was beyond what he’d felt in years; so he had been lied to. He had despised this child for no reason, this was _ not _ Sola’s! “Then, if you are not a Naberrie, perhaps you really _ are _guilty--”

At that, the boy’s fear spiked, as well as his anger. 

“I AM a Naberrie!” he shouted, sobs racking his voice. “You have to believe me!”

“You _ just admitted that you lied!” _ Vader clenched a fist, and the boy was raised into the air; he might not be able to kill him, according to the law he was bound to serve, but he could choke him within an inch of his life. “If Sola Naberrie is not your mother, then _ who?” _

_ “Padmé Amidala!” _

There was a soft thump as the boy hit the ground. 

_ Padmé Amidala. _

She was his mother. _ She _was his mother. And if so--

_ No. _

Vader’s world bent and broke around him, crumbled in on itself for the first time in sixteen years--_ yours, _ echoed the voice of self-loathing in mind, _ your son. _

_ You arrested your son. _

_ You struck your son. _

_ You threatened and abused and mistreated your son. _

_ You terrified your son. _

_ You wanted to _ kill _ your son. _

No wonder he’d looked so out of place, in that dark-haired, dark-eyed family, with those blond locks and bright, blue eyes--the blue eyes that had gone wide in terror at the sight of him, that had spilled tears because of him--

_ Enough. _

The boy--what was his name, _ why didn’t he bother to remember anyone’s name _\--scrambled to his feet, gasping, his eyes wide, more tears streaming down his face; his bravado, his iron determination, had gone. Once again he was a small, sixteen-year-old boy, who was experiencing far more than should have happened to him at his age. 

Who had been accused of murder. 

_ No, _ Vader thought fiercely. _ No. He will not be killed. Not my son. _

Vader almost wanted to demand if he was telling the truth, but two things stopped him. The first was that he could feel the truth of it. The boy was his son. 

The second was that he had demanded too much of this boy. No more. 

Instead, he asked a different question. 

“Your name,” he said. “What is your name?”

The boy sniffled as he took a deep breath, his eyes searching Vader fearfully. 

“Luke,” he said at last, his voice small. “Why do you care?” 

_ Luke. _

One of the names...that _ she _had wanted. 

Luke. His son. 

His hands moving almost of their own accord, Vader reached out, toward Luke, wanting to examine _ his son _for himself, to touch him; and then Luke jerked back. 

“What do you want?” he asked helplessly. 

He thought Vader would torture him, or kill him. Or both. Vader’s anger burned; this was his fault, that Luke thought that, it was all his fault--

“I will not harm you,” he said, haltingly, and then moved again, more slowly, and more deliberate. Luke continued to eye him warily, but this time he did not move away as Vader cupped his chin in his hands, tilted his head up to look at him. 

Yes. Those eyes _ were _his…

And farther down, _ that bruise _stood out once more, reminding him of what he had done to the boy. To his boy. 

_ My precious boy… _

Vader wanted to go on touching him, to pull him close and hold him forever; this beautiful, sensitive boy, who he thought he had lost. But clearly, this contact was making Luke more than uncomfortable...and besides that, he did not deserve to touch him. 

Vader stepped back, releasing him. Luke let out a breath. 

“I did not know,” he said, “that you were...Amidala’s son.” 

Luke nodded slowly, as if he was unsure what to make of that statement. 

“Yes,” he whispered. Still so afraid. Still terrified, that Vader would hurt him. 

Carefully, delicately, Vader took Luke’s arm--much, much gentler this time--led him towards a bench, and sat him down. 

“You are innocent,” he said, and wild hope rose in Luke’s eyes. 

“You--you believe me,” he gasped. “You believe me!” Desperation in his eyes, he reached out and seized Vader’s forearm. “Please--I know you have your own agenda, I know you have worse things to worry about, but please--”

Vader knew two of his Stormtroopers were just outside the room, but then he decided he didn’t care. 

“There is no need to ask,” he said. “I...will help you prove your innocence.” 

Once again, Luke’s face was lit up with hope, and for a moment it almost looked as if he would smile; but then, the look was replaced with confusion. 

“Why?” he asked, and then his gaze dropped and he kicked at the floor idly. “You don’t care about me.” 

“On the contrary, Naberrie.” He almost used Luke’s first name, but that would have given many things away; he could not say too much, especially with those troopers so close. He could not keep much from his master; but this boy he would, at all costs. “You are the most important person in the galaxy. You…” _ You are my son. _“You have the potential to surpass me in strength; you are very powerful in the Force.”

“What?” Luke whispered. “I don’t…” He shook his head. “I won’t ask. Just...just help me…” He looked up at Vader desperately. “I’m not guilty. I…” His lip shook, as if he were about to cry. “I want to see my family again.” 

“And you will,” Vader said, placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “And we _ will _prove your innocence.” 

“Really?” A tear slid down Luke’s cheek, and this time Vader could not help himself; he wiped it away. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.” Vader allowed himself to smile sadly. “I would never let anyone hurt you, little one.”

Luke nodded slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing; he was still afraid. But that would soon be remedied.

The trip to Coruscant lasted two hours, and Vader remained by his side the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I actually really like this AU! I might continue it in a longfic sometime in the future, when I finish up some of my other WIPs...but for now, enjoy this two-shot!


	11. The Light Bringer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the shuttle on the way to the Second Death Star, Vader contemplates his son.

It was all wrong. 

His son, Luke Skywalker, was with him at last. After nearly four years, Vader had found him, had captured him; the boy had even turned himself in willingly. He was here. Vader had him. It should have been right. 

But it was _ not, _because they were not going to overthrow Palpatine. 

Luke was going to be turned by Palpatine. 

And then Vader was going to die. 

It was the will of the Force; there could only be two Sith. Vader had remained useful, since Palpatine had had no other options; but now he did have one. He had Vader’s son, who was younger and stronger; less trained, perhaps, but with greater potential. And that, to Palpatine, was an advantage. Luke did not know much about the Force...so Palpatine would show him everything. 

From a certain point of view. 

Luke believed, of course, that he could not be turned. He had even had the audacity--the courage, the strength, more than Vader could ever hope to have--to suggest that _ Vader himself _was capable of turning back. Of being...good. 

But both of those were impossible. First, the obvious: Vader was not good. He could never be good; Anakin had been good, and he had destroyed him, and had destroyed everything that Anakin loved. Including Luke. Because Luke _ would _turn. He did not believe he would, but that was because he did not know Palpatine. The Emperor was too strong, too powerful, or Vader would have killed him. It was inevitable: Luke would turn. 

At the thought, Vader could not risk a glance at his son, the son he had been robbed of; slowly, from his vantage point near the shuttle’s ramp, he turned to look. Luke sat on one of the small benches in the shuttle, a Stormtrooper on either side of him; his hands were chained in front of him, his blue eyes staring straight ahead. Hopeful eyes, despite everything.

In a few hours, those eyes would be tinged yellow, not blue. 

Just like his father’s.

_ Father. _Luke had called him that. He’d accepted the truth...in a certain way. 

_ I’ve accepted that you were once Anakin Skywalker,_ he had said.

That name had no meaning for him; and so he had told the boy. But all the same Vader could not help but think...but remember…

** _ I’m a person, and my name is Anakin Skywalker. _ **

Quickly, he shook off the memory, of the person he had used to be, of...her. That past had no meaning for him. 

_ Does that mean that I no longer mean anything to you? _

He was imagining the soft voice in his ear. Imagining it. She was dead, and she had not been Force sensitive. 

He had heard nothing. 

Luke tilted his head, and Vader realized that the boy was looking at him, that piercing gaze boring into him. He’d been half wrong, he realized. _ Luke _had spoken those words, into his mind. 

He did not turn away, though he wanted to. He must remain in control. 

_ That is ridiculous, _ Vader told him sharply. _ I was _ once _ Anakin Skywalker. That does not mean he never existed. And, like him, you will also take a new name. _

Something passed through those eyes; the hope vanished. It was replaced by deep sadness. 

_ I will not, _ he thought back. _ I already told you. You’ll be forced to kill me. I would have thought… _

He stopped and lowered his head, averting his gaze. Vader heard nothing more...but he could sense, all the same, what Luke had been about to say. 

_ I would have thought you’d care more about whether your only son lived or died. _

How _ dare _he make such assumptions? Did he not know--did he not understand--

_ That is enough, _ he told Luke coldly, and saw his son flinch. _ You are in no position to make demands of me. You do not understand the efforts to which I have gone. You do not understand the power of the Dark in comparison to the _ weakness _ of the Light, the weakness to which you have committed yourself. Perhaps we are father and son, but we are also strong with the Force; that is more important. Becoming a Sith is your fate, and you must accept it. _

Vader fully expected a response from Luke: another argument, a retort, even a sarcastic remark...but there was nothing. His answer was silence. 

Did that mean that Luke _ had _accepted it?

Vader dared to hope...but then, for some reason, he realized he didn’t want Luke to accept that. Some part of him _ wanted _Luke to fight, to not accept his destiny, to be strong where his father was not. 

_ What do you want? You want to overthrow Palpatine? Luke is only trained in the Light. Both of you will be defeated. _

No. What he really wanted was to be a _ father, _to have the life he should have had. He wanted to protect him. But he could not do that. 

He was out of time, and nothing could be done about it. 

“Lord Vader,” said one of the pilots, and Vader walked toward the cockpit; anything to get his mind off the willful, obstinate, weak, _ perfect _boy that was his son. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“We have…” The pilot was nervous; a small bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. “We have a slight problem.” 

“A _ problem?” _ Vader hissed, more than glad to take out his anger on someone. “What _ problem?” _

“Well,” said the pilot, who was definitely trembling now, “we’re experiencing a slight--a slight malfunction in the rear engines. Nothing terrible, nothing to worry about, except there’s also--”

Lie. 

The pilot was _ lying. _

Why he would have cause to do that, Vader could not understand; except that there was a sudden spike of _ danger _in the Force, danger in this very shuttle…

Danger that surrounded his _ son. _

Even as Vader had the thought, Luke’s presence was tinged with alarm--there was a commotion behind him--

_ Father! _

Vader spun around, heart in his throat, just in time to see one of the Stormtroopers stand in front of Luke--Luke, eyes open in shock, in terror, already being held back by two other troopers, held still so he couldn’t move--lift his head up by the hair, and press a blaster to his chest. 

“NO!” Vader roared, rage filling him; he had to move, he had to act. 

_ “It’s a boy.” _

_ “Oh, really? You think that, do you? How can you tell?” _

_ “Motherly intuition.” _

He had to protect his only son. 

_ “And what will you call him? If he’s a boy?” _

_ “He is a boy, and I would call him Luke.” _

The Stormtrooper touched the trigger--

Vader reached for the Force. In his rage, it was easy. 

The trooper pressed the trigger--

And gave a yell as the blaster was ripped out of his hand. 

Luke shouted, blood spattered; he’d been hit, it was not fatal, but he had been hit all the same. All because Vader had failed to sense a deception within the ranks of his own men--because he’d been so focused on getting Luke to accept an evil fate--

He moved instantly, snapping the necks of the first Stormtrooper, then the other two; and when the pilot pulled his blaster, he was dead as well. 

The co-pilot shouted in terror. 

“Take control of the shuttle,” Vader snarled at him, and he did so immediately; the shuttle, which had begun to plummet, straightened itself. “And set a course for Endor!” 

The co-pilot frowned in confusion. “My...my lord?” 

_ “Do it,” _Vader rumbled, raising a fist; and, already feeling the Force close around his neck, the co-pilot nodded vigorously. 

“Y-yes, Lord Vader,” he stammered. 

Vader could waste no more time; the co-pilot had outlived his usefulness, but Luke was injured, he was lying facedown on the floor, he might be dead--

In an instant, Vader hurried to his son, seized him by his shoulder...and touched blood. _ Blood. _Terrified, fearing what he might see, he moved his hand down slightly and turned him over…

And Luke opened his eyes. 

Alive. He was alive. Of course he was alive, otherwise Vader would have sensed it in the Force, but _ he was alive. _

“What--” Luke gasped, as though he couldn’t get a breath. “What--_ Father-- _”

“Careful,” Vader snarled, and froze when Luke flinched; it was so difficult not to demand things of others, especially when he was _ so afraid, _but he must make an effort. For Luke. “You are injured. Be still.” 

Quickly, he searched his son, patted him down, ignored Luke’s protests as he dreaded to find an entrance wound in his son’s chest...but there was nothing. The trooper had missed, by several inches; the wound was in Luke’s shoulder. It was not lethal. 

Of course, that did not make the fact that it was weeping blood _ any better. _

“It’s--it’s okay,” Luke said, and tried to sit up; in an instant, Vader had pushed him back down. “It’s just my arm--”

_ “Just your--” _ He broke off. The co-pilot was in the cockpit; he would hear. But then, Vader decided he didn’t care. He was going to kill him anyway. “You are barely _ alive, _ young one, I hardly doubt that it is _ just _a wound--”

“You care.” 

Only two words, spoken in a soft, small voice...but they were so full of hope, of longing, that Vader couldn’t believe he had heard them. 

He looked back at Luke. “What?”

“You _ care,” _Luke said, his eyes shining--with tears. There were tears in his eyes, and Vader was suddenly worried that he had done something; except that Luke was also smiling. Was he delirious? 

“Of...course,” he said haltingly. “You are my son.” 

“Yeah, but--but you said--” Luke winced as he moved his arm, and Vader was immediately there, making him lie still again. “You said our ability to use the Force was more important--but--”

He had been wrong. But somehow, the idea of actually _ saying that _was difficult. 

Instead, Vader continued to hold Luke still, one hand on his arm, the other placing a bacta patch on the wound. He continued on, trying--and failing--to ignore the wonder, the hope in Luke’s presence, until the bleeding was stopped and the wound was patched up. 

“There,” he said at last, and panicked as Luke rolled his shoulder experimentally. “No, do NOT do that! Keep your arm _ still.” _

But Luke only looked amused. 

“Can I at least stand up?” he asked. “It’s not as if my legs are injured.” 

_ They might be if you keep trying to move, _Vader was tempted to snarl at him, then decided that Luke had had enough threats from him. 

“You may,” he ground out at last, then extended a hand to Luke’s uninjured arm. For a moment, Luke hesitated, and he realized that his uninjured arm was the right one, the right _ hand. _But a moment later, Luke accepted his father’s hand, and Vader pulled him to his feet and let go. 

After that, he didn’t know what to do, except stare at his son. His son, who had come so, so close to being killed…

“Well,” Luke said awkwardly. “Uh...what do we do? They just…” He gestured to the Stormtroopers, his face paling as he realized how very dead said Stormtroopers were. “They just...tried to kill me…and then you...” 

“Yes.” Most likely, it wouldn’t be reported; but Vader had realized that he could not lose Luke, that he could not even _ risk _it...and that attempting to draw him to the Dark Side, that holding himself to the old principles, had almost killed his only son. "They must have despised you for your status as a Rebel, but they were wrong to. They went against my orders to do so, and their deaths were deserved." 

"Uh...I can't say I'm in favor of that, but...okay." Luke peered around Vader. "Hey, wait a minute. We’re not--” He seemed to realize, for the first time, that they were moving _ away _from the Death Star, and his eyes blew wide. “Wait, wait a minute, where are we going? I turned myself in to save my friends--you--you can’t--”

“Relax,” Vader told him, and Luke’s eyes snapped to him. “I am not going to kill him. Not...if you wish it.” 

Not for the first time, hope filled Luke’s face. 

“Then,” he said breathlessly, “then you’re going to--”

“I am not going to help you,” Vader spat. “Not your _ Rebellion. _ That is _ not _my purpose.” 

Luke deflated. “Oh.” 

He was disappointed. Vader had to say something more. 

“My purpose…” He could say it. He had not even thought about this sort of thing in years, but _ he could say it, it was only a few words. _ “My purpose is to protect _ you. _Because you are my son.” 

Wild emotions flew across their bond: hope, disbelief, happiness, and...Vader stilled. And _ love. _ His son...loved him. Not only did Luke _ not hate him, _Luke loved him. He had not ever believed...only in his dreams had such a thing been possible. 

Now, it seemed, it was a reality.

Emotions were threatening to overwhelm _ him _now, powerful emotions, things he hadn’t felt or thought in twenty-three years, and quickly, Vader decided he had to move on. 

“And I will do that,” he said, “by killing the Emperor.” 

Vader watched Luke carefully, waiting for the inevitable rejection; but instead, a brilliant, beautiful smile burst across his son’s face. He...had never seen his son smile before now, and it was wonderful. 

“I’m game,” Luke said, as if they were _ friends, _as if they had not tried to kill each other multiple times. 

In fact, it was such a casual phrase that Vader did not know how to respond. 

“I’ll make sure no one in the Rebellion kills you,” he said softly, and Vader was surprised. He hadn’t even thought Luke would think of that, but...his son was so compassionate, considerate, where he was not. 

As if hearing his thoughts, Luke frowned. 

“And before we do anything else...Father…” Luke’s right hand moved--he was seeking his father’s hand, Vader realized abruptly, and hesitantly threaded his fingers through Luke’s, marveling in the touch of his son, the son he had been denied...the son he had almost lost. 

Vader looked down at Luke, who was the very picture of light, of radiance, of goodness. 

_ “You are a good person,” _Luke said fiercely, and even as Vader opened his mouth to deny it, the boy went on. “I know all the awful things you’ve done. Some of them have been done...to me. But you also protected me, and you’re willing to kill the Emperor. I’d say...that’s a start, isn’t it?”

For a long time, Vader did not know what to say. He had not been told, in years, that he was anything good; as Anakin, he had barely been told that. The only person who had said it with any regularity...the only person in the world…

Had been Luke’s mother. 

Padmé. 

“If you say it is,” Vader said at last. That was the closest he would allow himself to admitting it. 

Luke rolled his eyes. “All right. Well, I guess it’s better than being threatened routinely.” 

“Do not tempt me,” Vader said, but there was no anger. 

That was a thought. For the first time in twenty-three years, he felt _ no anger... _at all. 

Luke stared at him...and kept staring. As if he couldn’t believe it. And then he did something that Vader had not expected. 

He laughed. 

It was a beautiful, wonderful laugh, just as full of joy as the smile; and Vader wondered where all the darkness had gone. Moments before, he had been certain that he would die, that his son would turn, that there was no goodness left, for either of them. Now, he was on his way to kill the Emperor, and Luke was standing near him...smiling, and laughing. 

“You’re...that was a joke,” Luke said, and despite the wound in his shoulder, he looked the happiest Vader had ever seen him. “See, there’s hope for you after all.”

“Perhaps,” Vader said, not trusting himself to say anything more, and was rewarded with a smirk. Then, still holding Luke’s hand, he turned them both to look out at the stars as they approached Endor. 

He couldn’t believe it. His son was by his side, and he had not turned. He was happy...and he _ loved Vader, _as his father. It was inconceivable. It was impossible. 

How was this possible? 

How had this happened?

Then, abruptly, he remembered. 

_ “All right, Luke. It’s not a bad name, but...why? What does it mean? Or is it just that it sounds nice?” _

_ “Well, it does sound nice. But...it has a meaning, too. It means ‘light bringer.’” _

Suddenly, everything made perfect sense. 

Luke was the Light Bringer...and in an instant, in a moment that would surely shake the stars and bring disturbances to the Force for the rest of time, he had brought light back to Darth Vader himself.

And, as he stood hand in hand with his son, Vader could not help the thought that Padmé would be proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I didn't think I'd go AU...but I went AU! There was starting to be a lot of angst in here, and then I went "nah. Not on my watch." Because I have to have my fluff.<  
Hope you enjoyed!


	12. Lost And Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ESB AU where Vader gets Luke after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this whole collection is for [LadyVader23,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVader23/pseuds/LadyVader23) but it's her birthday today so I wrote this short, angsty one-shot for her!

Vader could still see his son falling. 

It had been minutes since he had told Luke the truth, since Luke had chosen to die, since he’d stormed off the gantry, since he’d called for his shuttle to bring him back to the  _ Executor.  _ But he felt like he was still standing there, watching Luke, his only son, his  _ only hope,  _ slowly disappearing down the air shaft. 

Luke had been faced with a decision that should have been easy. Vader had made it that way; he’d made sure Luke could not escape him, that joining him would be the only option. Surely Luke would not choose  _ death  _ over that…

But he had. 

There was a chance, just a  _ chance,  _ that Luke was not dead. Vader would have felt it if he was; he was  _ sure  _ of it. But then, Luke had fallen so far...and Vader could not  _ sense him.  _

_ I am sorry, Padme.  _ He dared to think her name for the first time in twenty-two years.  _ I have failed you. I have failed our son.  _

He saw them both, simultaneously--Padme, hands reaching for her neck, staring at him, begging for him to stop; Luke, giving him one final, defiant look before stepping off the edge of the gantry. 

Both fell away from him, each in a different manner. 

And all the while, the shuttle continued to make its way to the  _ Executor.  _ The officers each went about their separate tasks, completely unaware of the inner turmoil that existed in Vader’s mind. 

_ Ben-- _

Vader turned toward the viewport. Something, there was something there…

_ Help me!  _

Luke. Luke was alive after all, he’d survived, he was near--

_ Leia, hear me... _

They were almost out of the atmosphere, almost into space. Vader spun towards the pilot. 

“Turn the shuttle around,” he said sharply. 

The pilot looked confused. “Turn it around, Lord Vader?”

“Must I repeat myself?” Vader looked around the shuttle; no one was looking at him. They were afraid. 

“No,” the pilot stammered. “N-no, of course not. Where are we going?”

“Return to the facility, but go underneath it. I will give you details.” Vader turned back toward the viewport; he could sense Luke, even if Luke could not yet sense  _ him.  _ “I know where Skywalker is.” 

  
  


Luke didn’t know how long he’d hung there beneath Cloud City, desperately grasping at the structure with his one remaining hand, but he couldn’t do it for much longer. His hand was covered in sweat, and kept slipping--the muscles in his legs trembled--he was  _ beyond  _ exhausted--

\--and then there was the matter of  _ what he’d just been told.  _

He was trying to ignore it, he was trying to think of anything else but that, to just focus on  _ surviving,  _ but his thoughts continued to spiral, to go back to how his entire world had just been flipped upside down and--

_ I am your father.  _

It couldn’t be true, it could absolutely not be true...it was too much to think about, just another awful thing to top this awful day. He refused to accept it; and yet, he felt as if some part of him had already accepted it, even when the rest of him didn’t want to, and--

_ I am your father.  _

He needed to get out of here, get away from Vader, from the monster who claimed to be his father. He was going to die here, and he knew it…

_ Luke.  _

Leia. It was Leia, he realized, she was coming back. 

He could  _ feel  _ her coming back. 

As the realization hit him, renewed strength filled him, allowing him to grasp the vane tighter with his left hand, to hook his legs more firmly around the flimsy material. Just a little longer, he told himself, just a little longer. 

_ Leia is coming.  _

And then, sooner than he had expected, there was something--the  _ Falcon _ \--something swooping out of the sky, moving right under him...a person was coming out to catch him. That was all Luke could tell; his vision was already starting to dim, his perception of reality fading. All he knew was that Leia was here to save him, and she’d sent someone out to make sure. 

_ Leia is here.  _

He let go. 

A man caught him; it was someone he didn’t know, but he seemed gentle as he hauled Luke up and helped him back into the ship. Luke was content to relax; his wrist burned, everything hurt, those awful words kept echoing in the back of his mind, and he felt ready to collapse. But the man was strong enough, so Luke just leaned into whoever it was and let himself be walked onto the ship. 

It felt unfamiliar, he thought dimly; the floor echoed strangely under his feet. It didn’t feel like the  _ Falcon,  _ but then he was confused anyway…

The ramp shut behind them. 

“We’ve got him, Lord Vader,” said the man. 

_ Vader.  _

Terror shot through him, terror and panic and horror and whatever else, he didn’t know, and Luke was moving instantly, pushing the man away from him, stumbling backwards--

A hand grabbed his arm. 

His heart pounding, gasping for breath, Luke looked up. 

Vader. 

“No,” he protested, pushing at the hand holding his arm, except that Vader had his left arm, and the other had no hand, so he couldn’t do anything but try to pull away from the monster in front of him. “No, no, just...just let me go…” 

But he knew that wouldn’t happen. 

Vader had been right. There was no escape, after all. 

“Stop, Luke.” The hand left his wrist, only to resettle itself on his shoulder in a vicelike grip. “It is pointless to run. It is impossible for you to escape.” 

Hearing the words only drove home the point further. Desperation seized him. 

“Like hell,” Luke found himself snarling, and somehow he ripped himself out of Vader’s grasp and ran, trying to put some distance,  _ any  _ distance, between himself and his-- _ shit.  _ Between himself and the monster who  _ was claiming to be his father-- _

He didn’t get far. He’d only reached the opposite wall when a hand closed over the back of his jacket and he was yanked back, spun around to face Vader; the Sith Lord had both his hands on Luke’s shoulders this time. Luke squirmed, but he couldn’t get away. 

_ “Luke,”  _ Vader said again, and he  _ hated  _ the sound of his name in Vader’s voice, the way he said it like...like Luke was someone special to him, the way he made it sound  _ personal. _ “Stop running. You  _ must  _ understand.” He actually turned then, to look around, and Luke looked with him; no one was near them. 

_ No one was in earshot.  _

“You must understand,” Vader said again, “surely you feel it in the Force. I am your--”

“No!” Luke cried out before he could finish. 

Vader’s grip on him tightened. “I  _ am.  _ And now you will be with me, where you belong...where you have always belonged, all your life.”

“I don’t belong anywhere near you,” Luke shot back. 

“You do--you simply do not see it. I trust that you will, eventually, but until then you must  _ stop  _ fighting me, and--”

“I won’t!” Luke shouted, not caring who heard him. “I won’t stop fighting, I will  _ never  _ stop fighting you, because you killed Ben, you tortured my friends, you cut off my hand, you killed--”

_ You killed my father,  _ he’d been about to say. 

He couldn’t say it. 

Because it  _ wasn’t true.  _

Abruptly, Luke realized his face felt vaguely wet. He was crying, he realized, crying in front of  _ Darth Vader.  _ But he also didn’t care...because now he realized just  _ how true  _ it was. He felt it, clearly--

And he also felt a large, black-gloved hand come up to touch his face...to, ever so gently, wipe his tears away. 

Luke froze, and stared up at Vader. 

He hadn’t thought the Sith Lord was even capable of such...gentleness. 

“I know I have hurt you, my son,” Vader said, and there was that word-- _ son.  _ It was horrible, and yet...and yet, it was everything Luke had ever wanted. “I have almost killed you. I almost did so today. But now you are with me.” His voice dropped even lower; he would have been heard, otherwise. “And now I have a reason to...live again.” 

The words sounded awkward and stilted, coming from him. But they were true, nonetheless. 

Slowly, Luke nodded, leaning almost unconsciously into Vader’s hand. 

The hand froze against his face, as if Vader was  _ shocked,  _ before sliding back down to his shoulder. 

Luke was grateful for that. He didn’t know if he could’ve kept standing, otherwise. 

“It’s just…” His voice came out in a croak, and he trailed off, looking up at the mask of...of his father. “It’s just so  _ much.”  _

“I know,” Vader said, as if he  _ did  _ know. And maybe he did. “And I am...sorry.” 

Luke could only nod slowly.  _ Sorry.  _ That was another word that sounded odd, unused, in Vader’s voice. But that was also true. 

For a moment, Vader did nothing more. Then, gently but firmly, the hand on Luke’s shoulder slid forward to rest on his back, and Luke was pulled against the Sith Lord. He couldn’t really resist--Vader was too strong, and Luke was also just so  _ tired,  _ and being able to lean against such a formidable black wall was almost...a relief. He didn’t have to do anything. 

_ Why?  _ he couldn’t help thinking, as his senses dimmed, as some sort of bond snapped into place in his mind.  _ Why didn’t you come for me?  _

_ Because I did not know.  _

If Luke had had more energy, he would have flinched. He’d never communicated  _ with  _ someone in his mind before...and it was all too obvious who that someone was. 

But as it was, he was exhausted. So he simply accepted it. 

Vader had not known. 

Darkness continued to fall. 

_ But I know now,  _ Vader went on,  _ and I will rectify my mistake. Now you will be with me, my son...and together, we will be unstoppable.  _

Luke didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t know what any of this meant. 

All he knew was that his father was here, and he got to rest...and, maybe, that his father even loved him. 

So he leaned his head against the black armor as Vader’s arms tightened around him, and then the world went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY LADY YOU CHAOTIC SOUL I WROTE THAT HUG IN JUST FOR YOU


	13. Impostor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stormtroopers have found another Luke Skywalker impostor trying to turn himself in for money...except this time it's the real Luke Skywalker. And one of them has just shot him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So idc how good or bad the set-up is, we just need more ESB angst

The mission had gone all right at first. Luke was alone; well, not completely alone. Artoo was with him, of course, which was reassuring. But there were no humans there, no help from any of his buddies in Rogue Squadron, not even Lando and the  _ Falcon.  _ If anything happened, he was well and truly alone. 

Three weeks after Bespin, the Alliance needed to move to a new location, and Luke had volunteered himself to find one. He was still having nightmares, but at least he wasn’t getting flashbacks  _ in the middle of meetings  _ anymore, and he still wasn’t allowed to go on combat-heavy missions, and he needed to  _ do something.  _ He’d felt too much like he was becoming an invalid, like he couldn’t do anything for the Rebellion, like he was useless; and Leia had seemed to understand that better than anyone. Besides, in the past few weeks, several Luke Skywalker impostors had popped up; trying to turn themselves in, collect the bounty on his head. There was a chance the Empire, if they found him, might think he was one of them, and Luke had told her that. So she had allowed him to go--to Axxila first, and then to any other planets in the vicinity. 

But now that Luke was here, even with Artoo, he was wishing he hadn’t gone. 

They inspected every corner of the world--there had once been an Imperial presence on the planet, though there was no evidence of one now. Still, Luke couldn’t help thinking that the Empire might be there anyway; he kept imagining that every time he turned a corner, someone might be waiting for him. 

That  _ Vader  _ might be waiting for him. 

Each time, he was of course proven wrong. But then came the next occasion he had to peer into a building or a warehouse, and it was dark, and all he could see was that red lightsaber and the Sith Lord bearing down on him. 

_ It is all right,  _ Artoo said on one of these occasions, where he clutched his chest and gasped for breath after flicking on a light.  _ There is no one here.  _

“Thanks, Artoo. I…” Luke struggled to take another breath. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s been three weeks.” 

_ There is nothing wrong with you. You have been through a very traumatic experience, and you need to let yourself heal.  _ Slowly, Artoo wheeled closer until he bumped into Luke’s leg.  _ Do not worry, Master Luke. You are okay.  _

Luke wiped a tear from his eye that he hadn’t realized was there. Artoo could make him feel better in a way no human could. 

“Thanks, Artoo,” he said with a smile. “So, what do you think? Is this good for a base?”

_ Yes, I think so. Should we report back? _

“Yeah,” Luke said, turning around. “Come on.” 

And then came the warning from the Force. 

Immediately Luke jumped backward into the warehouse, already reaching for his blaster. Artoo was at his side immediately. 

_ What is wrong? _

“I--I don’t know,” Luke said. “But something--there’s something here.” 

There was the possibility of it just being his trauma; that was entirely possible. But Luke had  _ felt  _ it, just like he’d felt the moment he needed to destroy the Death Star, just like he’d felt he needed to go after Han and Leia, just like he’d felt the truth of Darth Vader being his--

_ No.  _ He cut that thought off fiercely, realizing that he was beginning to shake. No. No, he wouldn’t think of that. 

All he knew was that he’d felt danger. 

“Just wait,” he told Artoo. “Just wait, I’m ready.” 

Then the door to the warehouse flew open, and stormtroopers piled in. There were dozens of them; at least two dozen, maybe more, and they were all armed. 

“Surrender,” one of them told Luke. “You are surrounded and outnumbered.” 

Obviously, Luke started firing. 

He felt for his shots in the Force; of course he could see what he was doing, but it was better to just let go like Yoda had instructed him, to  _ feel _ the stormtroopers and fire. At once everything was chaos; the stormtroopers had certainly not expected him to fight back against them, and soon they were all over the warehouse, diving and dodging his shots and grabbing for him, even as he rolled and leaped his way away from them. Luke had gotten at least four, he knew--a fifth went down, a sixth--

Without warning, a sharp pain stabbed into his back. With a shout, he went down. 

He’d felt that before. A Force pike. He could already feel the shock travel across his body and his limbs go numb…

“He’s one of those impostors,” came a voice above his head; one of the troopers. Good. They didn’t think he was...him. “The real Luke Skywalker has one of those lightsabers. And this guy’s face is too thin.” 

_ Yes, yes...think I’m an impostor...let me go, you don’t need to take me-- _

And then came the sensation: of something dark, something  _ cold.  _ A presence in the Force, powerful and overwhelming and all-encompassing and--

No. 

No, no, no, NO--

Vader was here. Vader was coming for him. 

Luke struggled in earnest, trying to shake off the numbness, trying to get away; he had to get away. He had to escape--

_ There is no escape.  _

Luke fought harder, threw off the arms trying to pin him down, lurched to his feet and started to run--

And something hard, something painful, punched him in the chest. 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He barely felt himself be thrown through the air, barely felt the pain of his body hitting the wall, barely heard the voices above him. Something was wrong...something was terribly, awfully wrong…

_ “Just leave him here.”  _

_ “Another false lead.”  _

Luke barely heard any of it. He just...floated. 

But he definitely felt the  _ roar  _ of rage, against his mind, and in the physical world, as...as…

As Darth Vader entered the warehouse. 

Luke’s terror was greater than his pain; his eyes flew open. He reached for his chest--

His hand came away wet. 

He’d been shot. 

Blind panic entered his mind then, because Vader was here--because he’d sent stormtroopers--because--

Had Vader had him shot?

It didn’t make any sense, because Luke thought he’d been furious. But then...he had told him on Bespin, that Luke would join him or die…

There was some sort of noise, in the background: someone shouting, protesting; the hum of a lightsaber. 

Vader was going to kill him.  _ His father  _ was going to kill him. 

Heavy footsteps reverberated through the warehouse, and then the hulking shape of Darth Vader filled Luke’s vision. Luke stared at him in terror. Vader was looming over him, lightsaber in hand…

Then, the blade vanished. 

He...he wasn’t going to kill Luke…

He was  _ taking him alive.  _

“Luke,” Vader said in his deep, rumbling voice; Luke shuddered. That caused more pain, but it didn’t seem too important at the moment. “Can you hear me?”

He was going to take him alive, he was taking him alive--he could do anything to him--

“No…” The sound came out of him in the tiniest of sounds, in a whimper, and Luke wished he sounded stronger but  _ he couldn’t help it,  _ there was pain all over and  _ Darth Vader  _ was standing over him. “No, no…”

Vader spun, snarled something; Luke couldn’t hear what it was. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t know what was happening, for some reason he was confused...all he knew was that Vader had let him be shot, he  _ couldn’t let Vader take him… _

Then the towering figure spun back and crouched down; the mask was right there, right in front of him. Terror once again shot through him, blind terror, and Luke brought up both his hands, tried to push Vader away; but Vader raised a hand and covered both of Luke’s, forced him to be still. 

“No,” Luke moaned. “I...I don’t...get away!” 

Vader growled... _ something  _ at him, Luke didn’t hear what it was. He only knew it must be a threat, a demand; and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

He couldn’t do  _ anything.  _

Vader had Luke in his power, at his mercy, and he couldn’t…

The Sith Lord reached for him again, the mask bending over him. Luke renewed his struggle, but Vader didn’t seem to care; in a single movement, he slid his hands under Luke, lifted him into his arms, and marched off at a faster pace than Luke had thought possible. 

No, no--he was taking him away--

Artoo--

“No…” Luke tried to bring his hands up again, to push at Vader, to throw himself out of his arms. “Stop...stop it…” 

The mask tilted down, regarding him; and then Luke felt the touch of the Force, of the  _ Dark Side,  _ heavy against his mind. He tried to force it away, but his limbs felt like lead, the world was fading...he couldn’t even feel the pain in his chest anymore. Darkness rushed down the bond he’d tried to ignore for three weeks, the bond he’d tried so  _ desperately  _ to ignore, and he couldn’t resist.

** _Sleep, _ ** commanded Vader’s voice in his head, and Luke obeyed. 

  
  


His son. His son, his only son, the son he’d lost too many times to count--

He’d been shot. 

He’d been shot, by Vader’s own stormtroopers, simply because he hadn’t realized soon enough that it  _ was  _ Luke, and he had been shot. 

He was almost  _ dead.  _

Vader walked, as fast as his prosthetics would allow, toward his shuttle. The medic stared--at him, at the prone boy in his arms--but Vader would have none of it. He put Luke down on the cot and whirled. 

“Fix him,” he ordered the medic. “If he does not survive the trip to the  _ Executor,  _ then neither will you.” 

The medic began to shake in terror, but Vader did not care. All he cared about was whether Luke lived or died. He was his child,  _ their  _ child, his  _ only son,  _ and Vader would  _ not  _ see him dead. He would drag Luke back from the afterlife himself if he needed to; he’d tear this medic’s bones from his body, shed the blood of every senator and stormtrooper in his service, rend every other being in the universe into a thousand pieces if it meant that Luke would live. 

Vader stayed there the entire time, watching the medic work, and monitoring Luke’s presence as his son flickered between death and life. He knew that he was making the medic anxious; that did not matter. Vader barely noticed him. Instead his eyes remained on Luke, on the pale face--much thinner than he remembered--on the chest rising sporadically up and down, on the eyelids that fluttered in sleep. But the real test was in the Force. Every so often, Luke’s presence dipped, faded; but even as Vader’s anger surged, as he prepared to split the shuttle in two along with everyone else in it, it grew strong again. 

At long last, the medic stepped back. 

Instantly, Vader was there. “Well? What is his condition?”

“Stable,” the medic replied, his voice barely audible. “But it...it would be best to get him into--into treatment immediately. My lord.” 

He looked up at Vader, a terrified plea in his eyes. 

Vader ignored him. He was not going to kill him--not yet--now that he knew Luke would survive. 

But he would have to act quickly. 

He was not going to lose his only son again. He refused to. He had harmed him already, had almost lost him for good; Luke would never be lost to him again. 

He was with his father now, and he would be safe. 

  
  


Luke was floating. 

A few months after joining the Rebellion, they’d happened to set up base on a water planet, and Han had taken that opportunity to teach Luke to swim. It had been a frustrating experience, since Luke had grown up on Tatooine; but eventually he’d gotten the hang of it. 

“You just can’t think about it,” Han had told him. “Gotta trust the water. Just lay there, let yourself float.” 

Luke had tried, he really had. But although he’d mastered several difficult strokes, he never could get the hang of just floating. It was stupid, it should have been easy; but for some reason, while swimming across a lake became easy, the simple act of floating was difficult. 

He’d always wanted to float. He’d wanted to do it easily. 

And now he was. 

He didn’t know what was happening; he didn’t know where he was. But he knew he was floating somewhere, in some type of water...his legs drifting...he was overwhelmed by a sense of peace, of calm. 

There were voices, he realized. Somewhere near him, there were voices--dim, muffled, as if blocked by some barrier, but there were voices…

What was going on? 

Luke felt unbelievably tired, but he  _ needed  _ to know. With difficulty, he forced his eyes open. 

There were...walls? 

One wall. Or more. Some kind of glass was in front of him, obscuring his vision, he was...inside something. There were indistinct shapes beyond the glass; he couldn’t make them out. And inside, wherever he was, there was a liquid. All around him. That was the water he’d felt. 

But it didn’t feel like water. It felt sticky, unnatural…

And there was something over his face, like a breathing mask…

_ “He’ll be alright, Leia. You’ll see.”  _

Bacta. He was in bacta. 

The thought sent alarm through him. What had he done to be put in bacta? He must have been given some type of injury…

Something moved outside the bacta tank; a shape, a person. Luke’s vision was swimming, it looked like a dark blob...but he could just make out...there was a mask…

It was Darth Vader. 

He was in a bacta tank, he was  _ with Vader,  _ he was at the mercy of his enemy--of his father--

Luke panicked. 

Threw himself backwards, fought the harness holding him in place, scrabbled at the slick walls of the tank--he needed to get out--he needed to escape--

** _Luke. _ ** The voice was in his mind--again, yes,  _ now  _ he remembered everything, remembered getting shot--and it made Luke more determined, even though he couldn’t get  _ anywhere.  _ All he knew was that Vader had saved him--saved him, despite his insistence that Luke would join him or die, and he was healing him. 

Why would Vader heal him? 

_ To make sure he can hurt me all he wants, to start fresh… _

_ To  _ make  _ me turn.  _

Luke couldn’t get out of the tank, so he reached for the Force instead. In his weakened state, it was surprisingly accessible; so he seized it, ignored Vader’s presence in his mind, seized it and then  _ pushed  _ at the tank walls. Tiny cracks spread, all across the surface--

Then something pricked his arm, and he couldn’t seize the Force. Against Luke’s will, his body went limp and his mind stilled. 

_ Be calm, my son,  _ whispered the voice in his head.  _ Calm yourself. I am with you.  _

Luke had no time to explain that those words made him the  _ opposite  _ of calm before the world went black again. 

  
  


This time, Luke wasn’t floating. 

He woke instead to the feeling that he was lying on clouds. Whatever was under him was incredibly soft, softer than anything he’d felt in his life; and for a moment, Luke was simply content to lie there. To drift. 

Then he started to wonder where he was. 

He tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? He’d been talking to Leia, he’d been with the Rogues…

He’d been in a bacta tank…

But why would he be in a bacta tank? What had he  _ done?  _

Something. Skywalker luck, Han would call it; he had to have done something terrible, yet he was still alive. 

Or was he dead? 

Luke couldn’t deny that that was a possibility. He was very comfortable, after all; that could be a bed, he reasoned. But he’d  _ never  _ been in any bed  _ this  _ soft. Maybe he was dead. 

But the longer he thought about it, the more he started to notice a beeping sound to...his left. Somewhere to his left. That sounded like he was in a medbay. 

And there was also, he realized, the sound of a respirator. 

Luke’s eyes flew open. 

He wasn’t in a medbay. He was in what looked like a very large...room. Yes, it was a room. And he  _ was _ in a bed. But none of that really mattered. No, what mattered was…

With an effort, Luke turned his head. 

Vader was standing next to him. 

Luke shouted and jerked away; that was a mistake. Pain stabbed through his chest, as if someone had stuck a knife between his ribs; he saw red. 

_ “Luke!”  _

When his vision cleared, Vader was hovering over him, and there was a hand on his chest, pushing him gently but firmly back down. 

“You have been  _ severely  _ injured,” Vader snarled, and what a strange thing for  _ him  _ to be angry about, Luke thought. “You are fortunate to even be  _ alive,  _ and if you do not remain still, I will put you back to sleep!” 

Luke frowned. Yeah, that  _ definitely  _ didn’t match up. Now that he remembered everything, he recalled being distinctly terrified--terrified that Vader would use him, torture him into being a Sith, even kill him. He wasn’t supposed to be a  _ caring father  _ in the least. 

And yet...and  _ yet… _

No. It wasn’t true. 

Vader had cut off his hand, he’d tortured his friends--he was just trying to use Luke again. There was no reason to trust him. 

“What,” Luke gasped when he could talk again, “what do you--” He scowled up at Vader. “What do you care?”

Vader made a strangled noise. 

“Care?” he repeated. “What. Do. I.  _ Care?”  _ Durasteel fingers seized Luke’s jaw, turned his head to look at him, and Luke froze--but then the hold on his face softened to something like a caress. “You are my  _ son.  _ I will  _ not  _ lose you again.” 

“But,” Luke stammered. He remembered being shot, remembered Vader being there-- “But you ordered me shot. You  _ told  _ your troops to--”

_ “No, I did not!”  _

Luke stopped. Vader’s rage had surged, in the Force, and he felt it surround him; felt it surround everything, and then he knew the truth. All Vader had wanted from the beginning--all his  _ father  _ had wanted--was for him to be alive. The last thing he wanted was for Luke to die. 

This...this anger...it was not directed  _ at him.  _

It was  _ because  _ of him. Because Vader wanted him...safe? 

That was what Luke was sensing; and, he realized, it was because Vader had allowed him to sense it. 

He wanted Luke safe, above all. 

Luke’s fear abated, slightly. 

“No,” Vader repeated, softer, and his thumb stroked Luke’s cheek gently. Luke froze, shocked--he had not imagined his...his  _ father  _ capable of such gentleness. He couldn’t believe it. “No, my son. I would never have ordered your death. I arrived too late; they did not think it was you.” 

Luke nodded, slowly. Vader hadn’t ordered him killed. And he still didn’t trust him, he  _ couldn’t trust him-- _ but at least this meant that...that he cared. 

That, after all of this, Luke  _ did  _ have a father who loved him. 

“Although,” Vader went on in a more severe tone, letting go of Luke’s face, “I must ask you something.” 

Uh-oh. Luke’s earlier fear returned. 

“Yeah,” he croaked. “What?”

“The medical droid,” Vader said, the words sounding like the proclamation of a prophet, “has informed me that you are  _ below  _ the recommended weight for someone of your size.” 

Luke’s jaw dropped. He was not  _ really-- _

“Uh--uh, yeah,” he said. He didn’t believe this. “We don’t get a lot of rations in the Rebellion, but I’m fine.” 

“You are  _ not  _ fine,” Vader snapped. “You will be put on a much better diet than the one you are used to. You will regain as much weight as you need to.”

“I…” Luke stared at him--stared, and thought about it, because Vader was acting so  _ weird,  _ he was acting like--like--

Like a father. 

Overcome by both amusement and joy, Luke burst out laughing. 

Immediately, Vader retreated to tower over him. 

“What,” he demanded, “is so funny?”

But for the first time, Vader wasn’t terrifying. 

“Well,” Luke said, and as his laughter faded, he realized there were...there were tears in his eyes. “Well, you’re…” He blinked several times. “You care about me that much?”

Luke felt nothing from Vader but surprise. 

“Yes,” Vader said stiffly, sounding anything but caring; but Luke wondered if that was just what he was like. “After all, Luke…” He hesitated. “I am your father.” 

Luke stared at him again. The way he’d said that, it was almost like…

“Was that a joke?” he asked. “Was that actually you telling a  _ joke?”  _

More hesitation. 

“Yes,” Vader said again, sounding as stiff as ever; but Luke smiled. 

“I thought so,” he said, and grinned wider as Vader ruffled his hair. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TRIED to keep it angsty. I really did. But I'm a fluff queen first and foremost and I make no apologies


End file.
